


Resonance

by TheDruidIsIn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hetalia Axis Powers - Freeform, I'll add triggers as I write don't worry, M/M, Northern Ireland is a lesbian in this, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape is Asian, Severus Snape is Jewish?, Sirius and Remus are not main characters in this, The Unholy Union, There be poly here, Trans Severus Snape, probably gonna be a slow burn rip, sorry wolfstar, the pairings might expand bc poly but I'm not sure who the other part or parts will be, they're together but the story is not about them, we'll see if I have self-control, yes it's happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDruidIsIn/pseuds/TheDruidIsIn
Summary: Two pairs of eyes, one ebony black and one dark honey brown, lock onto each other across a courtroom during a Council of Magical Law Enforcement hearing. For ex-Death Eater Severus Snape, it is a life-changing encounter.





	1. A Quiet Voice

The Council of Magical Law Hearing of Severus Snape drew quite a few spectators. A known Death Eater to the public, many had come out to see him punished after both the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort and the tragic loss of the Potters. Hatred and the burning need to _punish_ him came from, in their minds, the association of him with that horrid double murder and tyrannical reign of terror rather than any personal vendettas, against Severus himself. Unusual for a trial such as this, Dumbledore himself stood at Severus Snape’s defense. Ordinarily the wizened old Headmaster of Hogwarts would sit on the Council, but, puzzlingly to the spectators, he had allied himself with the young Dark wizard who sat magically and physically restrained in the defendant’s seat. Occupying that chair and sitting in front of so many grim faces proved intimidating even though Severus had a near-guarantee of being cleared of all charges. To others it probably appeared to have little to no effect on the generally dour man’s mood, but a part of him did wonder of Dumbledore would come through—or if the rest of the court would allow him to. To his observers he looked as impassive as always, outwardly as calm and collected as if he weren’t on trial for war crimes with an Azkaban cell waiting to welcome him. Thick-muscled, red-robed Aurors stood off to either side of him somehow managing to look both utterly disinterested and vaguely menacing. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild, or perhaps they practiced it to intimidate defendants.

A wizard with a particularly reedy voice stood to read out the list of charges, seeming more excited as he read down the list, no doubt imagining Severus’ incarceration, Severus thought with a grimace. The part of him that wanted to punish himself for indirectly causing his once-best-friend’s death quietly agreed with the stranger’s enthusiasm, but another part, equally raw with grief, rebelled against the self-blame. He felt he had already paid the ultimate price for his stupidity. He could not bring the one good, pure force from his otherwise gloomy childhood back to life. Absolutely nothing they could do to him could possibly be worse than losing what someone else might call his platonic soul-mate. The overwhelming storm of emotions—anguish, guilt, remorse, loss, grief—crippled him for days, leaving him unable to even get out of bed. He sunk into a depression so low—still inhabited it, really—Albus feared for his life those first few days after _it_ happened. Only the darkest humor, the comfort of his own familiar witty yet scathing remarks, and a Pensieve where he could rerun happy memories of a living Lily of the past helped distract him from the bleak reality. At least he no longer needed Dreamless Sleep and was no longer in danger of drinking himself into a coma.

Dumbledore’s voice rose above the loud, indistinct murmur that comes from many people talking at once. Despite his power and influence, it seemed that he would have difficulty gaining a silent courtroom. The sweep of his power and the boom of his sonorous throughout the room did nothing to silence the low hum throughout the room. He plowed ahead anyway, directly addressing the Council. “Esteemed Colleagues and associates,” he began, “today we have come together to discuss the fate of Severus Snape, aged twenty-one, current Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He stands accused of being a loyal acolyte of Lord Voldemort,” here several people gasped at his use of the name, “of war crimes, of crimes against Muggles and Muggleborns, of murder, torture, and other despicable acts.” The crowd jeered. “However, I have evidence to provide to the contrary…” the courtroom erupted in open outrage and contempt, with some calls to ‘just send him to Azkaban with the rest already!’.

Just as it seemed as if the trial would go on for quite some time for lack of a willing audience, a quiet voice broke through the nearly deafening level of voices arguing back and forth so furiously that even Dumbledore had trouble getting a word in edgewise. “Let him speak.”

The soft but firm request had come from somewhere near the top of the row, from the group of Elders from the Wizengamot who also served on the Council, many of whom were also from extremely old pureblood families: somewhere near Lady Griselda Marchbanks, Lady Augusta Longbottom, Lord Giuseppe Zabini, Lady Aria Gamp, Lord Tiberius Ogden, Lord Lachlan Abbott, Lord Hamish Macmillan, Lady Abigail Fawley, Lady Marcella Selwyn and Lord Ignatius Prewett. It was not yet a reprimand, but something in it told him it could easily turn into that if the voice was not heeded, judging by the way the room hushed when the mystery member spoke, bringing the masses to heel with a flex of quiet power.

Severus watched with amusement as Cornelius Fudge, a man hastily chosen to sit in as Interrogator who had stepped into his role just a few weeks after Bartimus Crouch’s...unfortunate situation and fall from grace had him take a break from ruling the court with an iron fist, reddened but offered no form of protest, for once in his miserable life. The man embodied the dictionary definition of incompetence. As he turned back from him, he noticed that the devious twinkle he often saw in Dumbledore’s eyes had come to life while his back was turned. His eyebrows rose as Dumbledore bowed toward the general direction of the collective body of Wizengamot officials serving on the council, though Severus supposed it was really toward whoever had cleared the floor for him. He still had yet to pick out the owner of that voice. Strange, that it had come from the Elder section despite sounding so youthful.

“Thank you, my Lady—?”

“Yolotli Aztecatl,” she said, and now Severus could see her properly now that he was looking for her and expecting a response. She had an oddly alluring accent to her voice; deep honey brown eyes; tumbling, thick obsidian hair restrained in careful, elegant braids away from her striking face, which Severus noted held high cheekbones and the hint of an epicanthic fold around her eyes; and delicate, long lashes. She looked as if she were First Nations—indigenous, aboriginal, whatever word one used—if he could go by the pictures in his encyclopedia of magical traditions from around the world. She had what looked like a large feathered serpent hanging from a cord around her neck. Underneath her open plum Wizengamot robes he could see long, loose dark robes over a flowing golden gown that made her look like a living sunset with her russet terra-cotta skin. Anyone could see she was beautiful, but she had an allure about her not unlike that of a Veela, though far subtler. She leaned forward with earnest.

“Lady Aztecatl,” Dumbledore inclined his head. Fudge had recovered somewhat and turned to her, blustering.

“Old One,” he said, with what Severus realized was weary respect. “Pardon my intrusion, but this is clearly an open and shut case. Surely there are more pressing issues demanding your noble attentions than the trial of a known Death Eater?”

Severus saw her eyes flash, just for a moment, from normal human to something equally almost catlike and snakelike, though her face remained neutral and carefully restrained. “I appreciate your concern for my time, Sir Fudge, but as you know my...associate, Lord Kirkland, found such matters as these rather trying himself, and so asked around for a suitable replacement to sit in for him on Wizengamot matters. The Council is a quarter the body of the Wizengamot. I extended the offer to and his place, as I had grown bored and have far more political ambitions than he does. I find your world more interesting than others of my kind, as you might see the others who have seats missing from today’s proceedings—Lady Bláithín ó Murchadha and Lord Ciarán ó Murchadha, of Northern Ireland and Ireland, Lord Alasdair MacGowan of Scotland, Lord Dylan Sion of Wales, and Lady Jenifer Marghek of Cornwall. I—”

“But your Grace, surely—” a chorus of gasps, a mixture of shock and outrage, depending on the spectator involved, filled the room. Evidently no one interrupted Lady Aztecatl, who Severus already quickly realized might not be fully human, if at all, before she started speaking of “her kind”. He tried to hide his vindictive glee at the way Fudge, called Sir due to his Order of Merlin, seemed to realize his own political blunder.

“Really, Cornelius,” he could just make out Madam Bones, the other Interrogator, saying, while Lady Aztecatl’s eyes narrowed, flashing more clearly in irritation. “My intention, Sir Fudge, was to politely explain to you that how I spend my time is my decision and mine alone. I agree I could have done it quicker, but you’ve no need to be rude.”

A few nervous chuckles, a grimace here or there, and a complete parlor change from Fudge. “My Lady, I didn’t mean to insinuate—“

This time it was Lady Aztecatl cutting off Fudge, her voice sweet on the surface but edged and deadly like a viper. “I’m sure you didn’t, Cornelius.” She smiled at him in a way that rose the hair on Severus’ neck and sent an icy shiver down his spine, then added, chillingly, “See that you do not repeat such presumptions.”

Fudge audibly gulped and visibly stepped back in his box. “Of course my Lady.”

More like a Basilisk than a viper, Severus mused, watching attentively while appearing not to do so. If anyone else had done such, barring the oldest and richest of purebloods, Severus was sure Fudge would have protested at the loss of his title or even his family name. Instead he meekly accepted her reprimand as she—quite clearly in front of everyone—put him in his place. She waved her hand dismissively. “Your manners are neither here nor there, Cornelius. I want to get on with the proceedings. This one seems interesting.” A shudder passed through the room.

Severus has no idea what sort of magical creature heritage Lady Aztecatl had, but he could speculate. She clearly had power and authority she could wield ruthlessly and without pause for concern over backlash if the way she made an Order of Merlin recipient, which essentially amounted to a wizard with a knighthood, cower in front of the entire Council said anything about it. More to the point, perhaps, no one stepped up in the Fudge’s defense. She had respect and fear on her side, too, although when she turned her full gaze onto Dumbledore, and by extension, Severus, who maintained his cool mask and Occluded heavily, just in case, the Supreme Mugwump showed no such fear.

“As you know, we took no sides in the war, at first,” she said clearly but softly into a perfectly silent and attentive chamber. “We do not always concern ourselves with your affairs, though sometimes we must, when circumstance calls for it. We uphold the balance. We are the blood of the world. We are neither Light nor Dark, Good nor Evil, as you might judge.”

She looked around the crowded, hushed courtroom. Severus realized, with a sinking feeling, what she probably was. _An Undying, and here, of all places, presiding over his trial!_ She was right, that they rarely concerned themselves with everyday humdrum. None had been spotted for nearly half a century. “We almost intervened in your last war. If not for the tragic incident with the Potters that culminated in your Voldemort’s death, we would have acted in this one after the Winter Solstice. We waited to see if the tide turned in favor of life itself.” Here a few people made noises of surprise that they quickly stifled.

“Therefore some of us _are_ interested in current affairs. And I, among a handful of others, most of all.” She sent a small, displeased frown at Fudge, an obvious wordless rebuke about his earlier interruption. “Therefore,” she concluded her speech, sitting back and clasping her hands on the low wall separating rows in front of her, “I wish to allow esteemed Chief Warlock Lord Dumbledore the room to speak. I believe he intended to present relevant testimony, when he was so rudely ignored.” Uncomfortable shifting at her words, but no protests breaching the silence. She had total command of the masses without once lifting a finger to cast a spell.

Dumbledore dipped his head graciously a second time, lowering into bow. “I do, my dear Lady,” he replied, “My personal testimony, including Pensieve memories, as to the status of Severus Snape counter to the levied charges and a plea to clear him of all charges.” Startled exclamations filled the air, but one glance around the room from Lady Aztecatl quelled any disastrous dissent. She motioned for him to continue. Dumbledore delivered his testimony as to the character of Severus under her intent and watchful eye without a shred of uncertainty. When he reached the end, he requested that the Pensieve memories be viewed only after the room cleared of civilian attendees. One pointed glance from Lady Aztecatl simultaneously accompanied by the immediate and overwhelming support from the sect of the court that regularly allied with Dumbledore led to Fudge’s hurried approval. 

The room cleared, and Severus grit his teeth as they brought forth an empty Pensieve from an adjoining room. He resigned himself to being at Dumbledore’s mercy. Merlin knew what memories he would choose to expose Severus’ loyalty to him and the Order of the Phoenix. He only hoped nothing about Lily would be brought up. He would rather that the entire courtroom not see his pathetic groveling to Dumbledore the night he begged the old wizard to save Lily’s life, leading to his eventual persuasion to work to save _all_ the Potters and turn spy. The last curious onlooker left, glaring hatefully at Severus over his shoulder as he did so. Severus gifted him his nastiest sneer that plainly said _fuck you_. Dumbledore cast a charm to detect any lingering lifeforms, in case someone decided to risk Lady Aztecatl and the court’s wrath after all and hide, then strong privacy charms went up to prevent eavesdropping from outside. “Severus Snape is a spy of mine, rather than a true Death Eater.” Several Council members displayed their blatant shock. Lady Aztecatl merely continued looking at them, as steady as a mountain in a storm. The day something threw her was the day the mountains blew in the wind like leaves.

He soon found out to his intense relief he would save _some_ face. Dumbledore chose other just as revealing, but thankfully far less embarrassing, memories that depicted him acting on Dumbledore’s orders, or reporting to him, among other things. At various points during the viewing he glanced up at Lady Aztecatl, her plump lips pursed in concentration. One of her hands twirled her wand—he noted that it looked to be made of an unfamiliar wood— between her delicate-looking fingers, fingers he knew were really strong enough to crush his windpipe without much of an effort at all. He wondered what about him piqued her interest. Why had she come down so firmly on his side—or at least, for letting Dumbledore plead his case? Did she get bored so easily? And where had she come from, exactly? Her name gave away her foreign origins.

He pondered all the unanswered questions spinning around in his mind, chaos leashed carefully beneath his shields and his own mental discipline. He missed the exact moment that their eyes met, but suddenly found himself meeting hers, stare for stare. A mere moment later was as if he had been struck by lightning the moment they looked into each other’s eyes, though he felt no magical attack, no mental intrusion, no physical malady. He held himself carefully still. Had she done this? But no. Her eyes were intense, though normal in appearance at the moment. He saw that she had started to arch one delicate eyebrow, but instead a curious expression overtook her beautiful features. A look of confusion, then realization, and then a focus more driven than her initial intensity.

Severus swallowed. He had no idea what had just happened, but he had little faith it would go unaccounted for with her involved. Just then Dumbledore finished presenting his testimony, forcing both Severus and Lady Aztecatl to turn their attention to him, although it was a different member of the Council who spoke—the other Interrogator, Madam Amelia Bones. “That sounds perfectly reasonable, Lord Dumbledore,” Madam Bones conceded. “If you’ve nothing further, and if no one else has questions, I think we shall vote. All in favor of total acquittal of the accused?” Given the extent of her involvement courtesy of her push to have Dumbledore’s testimony heard, Severus didn’t think it came as a surprise to anyone when Lady Aztecatl raised her right hand into the air, her glimmering bracelet, which he realized was made from labradorite, falling gently down her wrist. Other hands soon followed. All the Elders on the Council, and most of the younger members, too, such as Lord Cyan Brown and Lady Iona Potts, threw their support behind the notion, ultimately numbering over half overall. Enough votes that the dissenting opinion mattered little, with no real need to tally it.

Madam Bones adjourned the meeting with the proclamation of the official verdict. “That will be all, Miss MacDonald, thank you,” she said graciously, addressing a witch sitting nearby who could only be the court scribe. Severus glanced over and nearly lost his composure. Severus realized with a start that the court scribe, who he had not spared a glance at until that moment, was Mary MacDonald. She met his surprised stare as she turned from Madam Bones. Her lips set in a thin, firm line and she left without a word. Severus swallowed, throat suddenly thick. He remembered that she had nearly died in a Death Eater assault against known Muggleborns—one which the Potters personally countered. More than that, he remembered her from school, and her friendship with Lily when she was still just Lily Evans.

Severus had no time to dwell on such thoughts. The magical chains binding him fell away and the nearest Auror—Dawlish, he thought—heaved him to his feet and pushed him toward Dumbledore. “He’s all yours, Lord Dumbledore.” He sounded deeply disappointed about that fact. “Lucky he turned spy for you.”

“Indeed,” was all Dumbledore said. His eyes twinkled as he looked at Severus, beaming. He heartily clasped him on the shoulder. “Come, Severus. Let us return to Hogwarts.”

He moved his hand down to Severus’ arm and began leading him toward a private exit usually reserved for Wizengamot members themselves, presumably to avoid the crowds of people waiting outside the doors to the courtroom. All of the courtrooms had similar setups to ensure the safety of the people serving as judges and jurors both. They had almost reached the discreet exit when that alluring voice called out to them.

“Lord Dumbledore, Lord Prince, please allow me to escort you.”

Severus snorted at the idea of them truly having a choice as they paused and turned to face her. She flowed across the floor like clear water over rocks in a stream-bed. It looked as if her feet barely touched the ground, though Severus knew logically it was only her robes and shining gown that had that effect. Her grace, however, was obvious. Up close he could see that she was even more beautiful, and that the feathered serpent nestled in the hollow of her throat had more Labradorite as eyes. He also noticed the shifting of the fabric on her shoulders that heralded the appearance of a stunning, brilliantly-scaled feathered serpent as it slowly rose out over the edge of her robe collar, no doubt a familiar. It sprawled comfortably across her shoulders, clearly at home there, all royal purple and sapphire blue and emerald green, gleaming iridescently.

As Severus watched, its head, which had peeked out of her collar and startled him only moments before, swayed as it looked directly at him. It let out a long, low hiss that made him nervous. He did not expect Lady Aztecatl to utter an answering hiss. _A Parselmouth,_ he thought, mentally reeling behind his shields, though Dumbledore _must_ have known because it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. In the past Severus had witnessed the Dark Lord speaking to serpents in their own tongue more often than he’d like, mostly because the Dark Lord often commanded his to act as spies or assassins. There was nothing innately malevolent or threatening about this conversation, though, whatever it was. Yolotli seemed amused, if anything, although he had no way to judge her companion’s reptilian expression. He ignored his nervousness, pushing past it. “I am no Lord,” he replied, curtailing the bite he usually instilled in his voice. “And no Prince.”

She came to a stop in front of them, that curious expression skittering into view. She concealed it quickly, but not quickly enough for Severus to avoid seeing it. Her hand went to stroke the head of the serpent, who preened under the attention. Her eyes on him seemed to ask some unspoken question, but when she spoke she held it back, whatever it was. “Perhaps, perhaps not. There was a time when the Prince family held a regular seat on the Wizengamot, but Lady Eleonor Prince was notably absent today. Perhaps to not show prejudice?” 

Her eyes sparkled, though in a different way than Dumbledore’s annoying twinkling. She knew, somehow, about his wizarding family and she was teasing him with the information, Severus thought. Severus felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “I assure you, Lady, that she would not have voted in my favor, nor would she have claimed the halfblood bastard of her disgraced daughter.”

Lady Aztecatl’s beautiful face fell. “I did not mean to cause offense.”

Severus scowled out of habit, but politely forgave her. She would, after all, be a terrible enemy to make and he was a Slytherin if nothing else. “No great offense, my Lady.” He paused, considering. “How did you come to know of my...heritage?”

She smiled serenely, and Severus ignored the way it made her glow. “The other Elders were discussing it just before the start of the trial.” How strange to hear someone so youthful in appearance include themself in the category of Elder. Then again, the woman standing before him might very well be old enough to be his great-grandmother or better. “You know it was Lord Prince, not Lady Prince, née Levi, who banished Eileen. Eleonor wasn’t even at home at the time. When she returned she was furious, but it was too late.” Her smile grew more gentle, more compassionate, and a little sad. “They had a terrible fight about it. She wore him down until he came around, then tried finding your mother, but by that time Eileen had disappeared into the Muggle world. Eleonor never got over losing Eileen and you, her child. She...I think it was too much for her to bear, to see you here. But I know she wants to see you. She still talks about you. If you ever decide you want to reach out...all is not lost.”

Severus stared at her hard, looking for any sign that she was lying to him, though he could think of no motives she might have to do so outside of abject cruelty and a desire to play games with the minds of poor halfblood bastards. “I appreciate the information,” he said finally, unsure of how to respond. He filed the information away for later, just in case.

He guessed she sensed his dis-ease but gestured toward the door amiably as if she did not notice it, nor his despite-himself-slightly-stunned expression, or Dumbledore’s damn twinkle. “Shall we?” And she ushered them from the room, with Severus unsure how he felt about, perhaps, being a little less alone in the world, about his mother being less alone in the world, about the possibility of reconciliation.


	2. A Few Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolotli plots. Severus drinks (and wonders what the hell is really going on). Rose...does what Rose does.

As promised, Lady Aztecatl walked with them to the apparition point. The corridor out of the Ministry wound, long and unbranching, toward the discreet exit for Wizengamot members, which they took on her recommendation. Dumbledore must feel that Severus could be in danger as well to agree so readily. Yolotli could tell Severus quietly agreed, given current public sentiment about anyone even accused of being a Death Eater at that moment in time. He might be heckled and harassed, even outright followed and attacked. She knew he understood the need for discretion, though clearly he did not understand why Lady Aztecatl concerned herself with it. 

Despite the tense moment when she dropped her knowledge of his family situation, she could feel the questions and confusion swirling inside of him behind his veneer of calm. Clearly he wanted to ask her, turning to do so when he caught sight of the serpent whose cheek pressed against hers. “I would not have guessed you’re a Parselmouth,” he said casually. 

She felt her eyebrows twitch upward. She had expected him to pursue information about his family, but she now knew that she had multiple valuable pieces of information at hand. He would want to know, and could find out only by asking her. The more he wanted to ask, the more she would have plausible reasons to be in his presence. “Really now?” She heard the amusement in her own voice as she carefully put away those thoughts for later. “Why might that be?”

His obsidian eyes raked over her intensely from head to toe, his thin lips pressed together. Paired with his large beaky nose, he looked a bit like a bird of prey ready to swoop in for the kill. The scrutiny would make many people flinch back in fear of an attack, but she knew he merely wanted answers. “Because many associate it with Dark witches and wizards, and you do not appear to be one.”

Yolotli grinned at him. “And what would one look like, Lord Prince? Yourself?” she teased. 

Severus scowled, though whether at the mention of his mother’s family name or the teasing she had no way to tell. “I suppose there is no one look,” he sniffed. “In fact many hide in plain sight, yet given my past experiences you hardly seem the type.” He allowed his curiosity to show more plainly. “Why do you carry this creature with you if others might jump to the same conclusions I did? It could tarnish your reputation.”

“She is not a creature. She is my companion. We are bonded, magically. We enjoy each other’s company and conversation.”

“Do you now?” Narrowed, calculating eyes. She knew when he understood, saw recognition light his gaze, though he appeared no happier for it. 

“She is your familiar.” Severus said it with certainty. 

“Yes,” Yolotli confirmed. “You know I am what you would call a Parselmouth. I speak Parseltongue. It makes things easier. Not many can speak to their companions. Watch.” And she hissed to Coaxoch to explain what she was about to do as she observed them both quietly. She knew how funny British magical humans could be about those who possessed the ability to speak to snakes. So strange considering how those in other countries viewed it as a gift, others as a sacred blessing. In yet others it occurred far more commonly and so escaped the notoriety it did here. She wondered how Severus would handle it, and if he would turn on her. She felt like he might. He knew her even less than Albus did, and it had taken Albus a while to trust her, _Albus_ , who very recently spent multiple sessions of the Wizengamot with her due to Arthur’s lack of concern over his seat. They didn’t speak often, but on some issues, such as werewolf rights, they agreed strongly. She knew it would be the lasting animosity—no, the outright loathing, fear, and disgust— towards werewolves that served as a barrier to their liberation. It put her a bit in mind of the Civil Rights Movement to end Segregation, or the American Indian Movement. She worried that even with the fear, awe, and neutral respect her name carried for others it might be difficult to push through reform. The first time someone brought it up at a session—had it been Lady Longbottom?—which she happened to sit in on there had been as much outraged uproar as approval, and only her glance and Dumbledore’s words, empowered by a powerful Sonorous charm, had quelled the immediate requests to make regulations stricter and harsher: fining or imprisoning unregistered werewolves, exiling ones who didn’t take Wolfbane (despite the fact that many lived in crushing poverty, and could therefore not afford it), barring them from schools by law, sterilizing them. At the moment, only social stigma limited employment, reproduction, housing, and education of known werewolves, but Yolotli—and apparently Lady Longbottom and Lord Dumbledore, if not others—wanted protection written into law. 

Albus glanced at Severus, reading something in his demeanor that Yolotli did not. “Ah, my dear Lady, forgive the, ah, apprehension, shall we say? The last Parseltongue experience Severus had did nothing to endear him to those who speak it. Lord Voldemort is a Parselmouth who often used serpents as little more than assassins or spies to further his aims of overtaking our world.”

“I see,” Yolotli said simply. “But surely you know not all those who speak it happen to be evil?”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “Of course not.”

She pushed her plum Wizengamot robe off almost as an afterthought and draped it over her right arm. 

_“Try not to frighten Severus, Coaxoch,”_ she warned, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. 

_“I will do my level best,_ ” her friend murmured _. “You know how finicky some of these British magic-folk can be.”_

Yolotli agreed as she gestured for Severus to walk directly at her side, something others might kill to do. She understood his reluctance if his only Parseltongue exposure had been Voldemort, but she had plans to rectify that.

When he did not move closer, she slowed her walk and introduced him to Coaxoch, allowing her serpent friend to gather his scent, and encouraging Severus to stroke Coaxoch’s dazzling body. “This is Coaxoch, Severus. She is a Quetzalcoatl, a plumed serpent from my homeland. You probably guessed I was not born or raised here. Their species name is the same as that of the god they resemble. They are magical serpents considered His sacred children.”

Severus balked at first at the prospect of petting her familiar, but gradually acknowledged, then released, his wariness. He might not be able to trust any other Parselmouths, but he could likely trust her not to kill him. She knew that speaking on his behalf in court would lead him to logically conclude that if she wanted to hurt him she had every chance to do so without lifting a finger. She beamed when he tentatively stroked Coaxoch, who hissed in pleasure. “With time you’ll get used to her,” Yolotli said confidently, speaking about something she had been thinking as soon as their eyes locked and she discovered that they resonated. She wanted to spend more time around him and get to know him but she would need to think of legitimate reasons to be in close constant contact with him. She needed something enticing, something to offer him. She would go home and think it over first so she could get what she wanted the first time. If he truly held suspicions of her she must dispel them with something that garnered trust. 

Severus looked at her sharply. “What time would that be, Lady?”

Yolotli didn’t falter. “Many more times, if you wish. I shall go home to hammer out all the details, but I will have propositions outlined for you.”

“Will you now?” 

The suspicion lay thickly on him. He didn’t quite trust her, then, eh? She resolved to earn it. “Yes. And you are free to accept or decline anything I propose to you if you find it distasteful. I think meeting at Hogwarts would be best. Neutral ground, if you would, rather than inviting you to our Manor or going to your place of residence.” 

The location apparently relieved him. He relaxed his stance minutely. “That might be acceptable.”

The entire time Dumbledore patiently watched their exchange without interrupting, but at that moment did. “I believe the others are starting to leave the chamber. We should hasten and be on our way if it is still your desire to avoid them.”

Severus and Yolotli got the message. They all began moving with more speed. 

“I’ll send an owl with the date and time,” Yolotli said, glancing at Severus. She could only hope he would say yes. “Albus is right about the others. You’ll have to Apparate quickly despite the extra privacy if you don’t want to have other, far more uncomfortable, conversations.”

Severus jerked his head in a nod of acceptance, though his features showed his unease. 

“Farewell Albus, Severus,” she said once they got to the Apparition point. She would think about how she wanted to do this, then she would write to them about the meeting to discuss it. If he responded in the negative then so be it. 

XXX

Severus stumbled tiredly through his front door despite Albus’ wishes that he remain at Hogwarts. As quickly as possible he checked the integrity of the wards in case someone tried to break in while he had been away at the trial. Once he reassured himself of their integrity he immediately fixed himself tea with a splash of Firewhiskey, then for a long while sat in the dark in his gloomy living room contemplating his freedom. 

He had many thoughts about Lady Aztecatl, and for once appreciated the odd hierarchies and tendencies of deference that pureblood society held. If they did not hold some form of reverence for her kind it might have taken even Dumbledore far longer and far more effort to be heard and to present his case. He knew with Dumbledore representing that he would be cleared of all charges and that there was in no danger of being shipped off to Azkaban, but she had significantly lowered the complications. He wondered, and worried, what she wanted with him and why, what she saw in him, and how Dumbledore would handle it. 

Before they parted ways, Lady Aztecatl promised to keep in touch with them. Severus didn’t anticipate that it would be so soon after the trial. By the end of the day, and by the end of the bottle of Ogden’s Finest, an owl arrived with a short note from her in which she informed Severus that she had a few propositions to run by both him and Albus. Presumably Albus received a similar owl. She suggested a time and date: The Sunday after the trial, some time between eleven-thirty and noon. Eventually he went to bed, after searching his personal library for information about the Undying. He lay under his sheets, once more running over the day’s events and things he had read before sleeping fitfully. Severus’s thoughts turned from the Lady when he awoke atrociously early to Lucius’ insistent owl. 

Unsurprisingly to Severus, Lucius had already emerged victorious and unscathed several days prior, although in his case he claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse at the time and therefore avoided a hearing altogether. Completely coincidentally, around the time of the inquiry into him he bequeathed a generous donation of galleons to the Ministry of Magic to enforce the belief that he had been cursed rather than serving the Dark Lord of his own free will. His obnoxious owl arrived at what Lily used to affectionately call “the arse crack of dawn”, an appropriate name if Severus ever heard one. The bloody thing almost killed itself trying to get him to wake up and open his window. Once he had, the feathered fiend actually _pecked_ at him until he took the small slip of parchment it carried. He opened it warily, not relishing the debriefing Lucius would undoubtedly want regardless of if Lady Aztecatl had been so instrumental in getting his case heard. Lucius’ letter, penned on outrageously ostentatious parchment that contrasted dramatically with the proper but modest parchment used by the Lady, read simply:

_Firewhiskey by the hearth?_

_-L_

Severus rolled his eyes. Ever the one for gossip, rumor, and gruesome fact, off course Lucius would be eager to hear all of the details of Severus’ trial as soon as Severus could be convinced to show up at Malfoy Manor to be questioned by him. Resigning himself to doing so at the risk of being hounded relentlessly by his old friend if he refused, Severus sent him a hasty, one word confirmation. He decided to Floo immediately to Malfoy Manor, partially out of spite for being woken up at such an unsightly hour and partially to placate his friend. Lucius hardly had room to complain about the hour when he was obviously already awake himself and had quite rudely awakened Severus. Severus changed quickly, grabbed the powder off of the mantel, and threw it into the flames. “Malfoy Manor,” he said clearly, stepping into the fireplace. Eventually he found himself spat out into the receiving room. He stepped from the fireplace, vanishing the soot that dared cling to his outer robes. Lucius had clearly been expecting him, and simply handed him a glass of Firewhiskey straightaway. The man before him had dressed as immaculately as ever, his many rings, both gold and silver, glinting in the firelight. 

Lucius peered at Severus interestedly over the glass he nursed for himself. Interestingly, it was half-full, as if Lucius had started drinking without him. “Have you had a chance to glance at the paper this morning?” 

Severus glared at Lucius. “I am afraid not, Lucius. Your blasted bird woke me up at this ungodly hour.”

Lucius looked as if he wanted to retort then shook his head in annoyance. “No, _of course_ you haven’t. You don’t receive advanced copies of the paper. _Look._ ” Lucius shoved a copy into his hands. Severus unrolled it with some apprehension and read the headline of the day’s paper. 

**_Severus Snape, Suspected Death Eater, Cleared of All Charges; Dumbledore, An Undying One Involved_ **

_By Caitlin Davies_

“One of the Old Ones? Interested in you?” Severus scowled under the sweep of Lucius’s appraisal that he could feel despite not being able to see him at the moment, as he started scanning Davies’ article. 

His old friend sounded curious rather than critical but Severus still felt defensive. Severus glanced up with a sneer. “Disappointed?”

Lucius studied his glass of Ogden’s Finest a long moment before replying. “Hardly,” he smirked. “It’s about time you seized a little political power for yourself. Now finish reading.”

Severus frowned, then returned to this perusal of the article. Short and to the point, it laid out events without going into much detail. What surprised him was how neutrally it had been written, although the author explained that phenomenon well-enough. The Davies were a neutral family and didn’t turn any story into a gossip-rag farce the way Skeeter tended to do. (He noticed, however, that Skeeter _had_ written an article a few pages in speculating darkly about immortal monarchies.) 

_Sources tell us that late yesterday afternoon suspected Death Eater Severus Snape, a former student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and current Hogwarts Potions Master, achieved an acquittal over the course of his trial thanks to the efforts of one Lord Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and of one Lady Yolotli Aztecatl, one of the mysterious Undying Ones. Aztecatl, sitting in for Lord Arthur Kirkland, the Undying One who actually holds the seat on the Wizengamot, took control of the floor yesterday and cleared the way for the presentation of Dumbledore’s testimony. Dumbledore himself represented Snape at his trial, providing his own memories as evidence. While Dumbledore barred the public from being privy to the content of those memories, a trusted source from inside the Wizengamot confirms that they indeed seem to prove Snape’s innocence. (While all Wizengamot swear oaths of confidentiality that cannot be broken, they can still discuss the nature of a private testimony.) Aztecatl came down in favor of the Chief Warlock’s requests for privacy, and many of the court, including the Minister for Magic hopeful Ser Cornelius Fudge, seemed reluctant to openly oppose her. On multiple occasions she scolded Fudge when he committed what were clearly several crucial political blunders by rushing through the trial with total disregard for evidence—a concern that could be applied to other hastily executed trials of suspected Death Eaters and sympathizers—and not exhibiting enough deference to the Old One. One would think such a wet-behind-the-ears potential politician would wish to curry favor with an Undying One where at all possible. On another note, Aztecatl expressed interest in Snape at the trial opening, the nature of which is undetermined. Can we, perhaps, expect great things from the man? Only time will tell._

“This article seems to be more intent on embarrassing Fudge than reporting gory details about my trial or mocking me as an individual,” Severus noted once he reached the end and looked up at Lucius, who leaned against the mantel waiting for him to finish. His silver eyes glinted in the light of the fire. 

“But of course,” Lucius replied smoothly. “Without more knowledge on how Aztecatl is interested in you they dare not drag you through the mud just yet. No one wants to raise her ire. And you were, of course, _innocent_.” He sneered the last word, injecting it with as much sarcasm as possible. 

Severus chose to ignore it. Lucius, of course, had no idea Severus had switched sides. He might think Severus to be more out for himself than a loyal Death Eater, but likely had no idea of his defection. “And, naturally, if they see Fudge as a political opponent of hers or sense any weakness or stupidity from him they’ll be out for blood— _his_. He probably wanted to appear ‘tough on crime’—forgive me, Muggle phrase that means he intends to act harshly towards anyone considered or suspected as criminal—but came off as a reckless tyrant in the shadow of her voice of reason.”

“Yes, voice of reason indeed.” Lucius drained his glass. “Three weeks and he’s almost committed political suicide,” he nodded, derision in his voice. “How the man hopes to one day be Minister for Magic I’ve no idea.”

“It might come back to haunt him that so many went to Azkaban without a fair trial,” Severus said quietly, staring at a carved crup design on the mantle and tracing it with a finger. “Especially under Barty Crouch Senior. I was lucky enough to receive one, and a fair one at that, but imagine the people who really _weren’t_ Death Eaters going to prison.” That would be the only time he ever felt pity for Black, though most of him felt the arsehole deserved it. 

They both shuddered involuntarily. 

“I know she’s my wife’s sister and our former comrade, but _thank all fuck_ Bellatrix is in there,” Lucius sighed as he poured himself more Firewhiskey. “Crazy insufferable bitch. The only witch or wizard completely safe from her wand was the Dark Lord.”

Severus stared into the bottom of his glass, swishing around the amber liquid. “Yes,” he agreed feelingly. “I have a feeling she would curse anyone for her own amusement, even Narcissa or Draco. She’s completely unhinged. It’s unfortunate that she’s powerful and intelligent. It doesn’t do to mix those traits with madness.”

They stood together in silence, refilling their glasses when they emptied and contemplating the new world order. 

“By the way, Lucius, a curiosity,” Severus said suddenly, much later. Judging by the light now peaking around the heavy drapes the sun had finally risen. He waited until he had Lucius’ full attention before continuing. “Did you know that Lady Aztecatl was a Parselmouth?”

Lucius’ pale eyebrows, light and ashy blonde like a Targaryen, rose in surprise. That was the only emotion displayed on his face. Whatever else he might feel he clearly hid it from Severus, who rarely found others unreadable. “I had no idea. Let us hope she is slightly less insane than the last Parselmouth who took an interest in you.”

Severus winced to himself, glad he could hide even from a close ‘friend’—if Lucius could indeed be called a friend—like Lucius. “One can only hope,” he muttered.

XXX

“Hey loser,” Bláithín ó Murchadha, better known as Rose Murphy, said to Yolotli as she walked into her own kitchen. Her friend sat at the table reading a newspaper and drinking coffee from a mug with tiny sprinting Dalmatians all over it. Rose was a shortish, curvy witch as pale as a frosted windowpane, with chin-length brown hair and intelligent blue eyes. She often dropped by to spend days or evenings with Yolotli. The two were close, and Rose especially liked dropping by when her brothers acted particularly like annoying pricks. This morning she wore an oversized tie-dye t-shirt and leggings with flip-flops—far from what stuffy pureblood witches and wizards expected someone of her stature to be caught dead in whether in public or at home.

Yolotli, still in a long violet nightgown, lavender dressing gown, and bunny slippers, made a beeline for the cabinets. If her long hair had not been in braids she would have an atrocious bedhead at the moment. She went through the motions of setting up tea for herself without a second thought. “Hello yourself,” she muttered, not feeling particularly clever. She’d spent hours trying to decide what to do about her propositions, and other hours thinking about Severus Snape’s coal black eyes, his night black hair, his calloused hands and stained fingernails (no doubt acquired from years of potions-making). His hands especially had kept her up for some time as she imagined them touching her, but his eyes and hair took just as long, if not longer. She had urges—to draw her fingers through his hair, to hold the side of his face against her palm, to find out what he smelled of when she leaned into his throat and collarbone. She had felt an instant attraction to him, though she knew nothing about the man except that she gathered he was exceedingly unhappy, not terribly popular, and possibly a tad abrasive—and of course that they had resonated. She knew that offered no guarantee she would like him as a person once she got to know him, but she’d like to at least try. Though even if she found that she did enjoy his company, would he reciprocate and enjoy hers?

“Not at your best before tea, eh? You’re more related to Arthur than I am.”

Yolotli’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t say that.”

Rose cackled. “Still don’t like my brother?”

Yolotli shrugged. “He can be very…”

“Annoying? Irritating? Hard to stand?” Rose grinned, looking feral. 

“Well, yes,” Yolotli admitted, shrugging as she hunted for the macadamia nuts and dried fruit. “He’s not my brother. I don’t have to tolerate him, let alone like him.” 

“See that’s where you’re wrong. You _do_ have to tolerate him, you _don’t_ have to like him. We are stuck with each other unless one of us happens to die some time in the next century.”

“Whatever,” Yolotli shrugged again, sensing that she would not win this disagreement. She could practically feel Rose gloating. She knew her friend would gloat even more if she knew about Francis currently laying asleep in her bed, completely naked and drooling on her extra pillow. He really wasn’t as bad as some of the other Undying said he was, though she would never admit that to Rose. Really she didn’t have to, because Rose knew, but Yolotli tried to keep her friend’s teasing to a minimum. She didn’t want to give her friend the satisfaction that came with each reminder that she hadn’t quite severed all ties with him. Rose had always sensed that their relationship ran deeper than the political arrangement that pushed them into marrying each other. If Rose knew how she really felt she’d never hear the end of it. Not because Rose disagreed with them being together, but because she found it amusing. She found it even more amusing if they acted awkward about it. 

“So,” Rose hummed, changing the subject while rustling the paper as she set it down. “What’s this I hear about Cornelius Fudge stepping up to you? Should I start sitting in on sessions, maybe teach him a lesson?”

Yolotli sat down with her nuts, fruit, and tea. She’d make oatmeal a little later, after her morning swim, when Rose went out to the garden to play on her flute. “I don’t think he’s anything much to worry about. Not much sense in his head, and I don’t mean because he challenged me. Surely he must know that everyone deserves a fair trial, if only to avoid any scandals later that come about because he put someone innocent in jail trying to rush the Council. Like with that Sirius Black bloke. A friend of his wrote me, and I’m having someone look into it. Something about that arrest doesn’t sit right with me. I think he could be innocent.”

“Black, innocent?” Rose thought about it, then nodded. “I can see that. But how can you prove it without interviewing the man yourself? And how could you keep _that_ type of political move quiet? If Fudge hated you showing up in court, what will he do when you upstage the Ministry like that? Especially if he’s gunning for the position of Minister for Magic!”

Yolotli laugh outright. “And you think that _that fool_ poses any real threat to me? Please, he’s a child.” She popped a dried date into her mouth. “I’ll go unofficially, do some investigating of my own. I’m no detective, but a braindead monkey could have done better work on Black’s case. I mean the bar is low... _really_ low. Feliciano without Risk could do it.”

Rose almost choked on the coffee she now sipped from, her lips spasming between her own laughter and a frown. “Don’t make fun of Cecelia’s brother that way.” 

“Oh, infatuated are we?” She smirked triumphantly as her friend blushed a pleasing shade of maroon. Amidst her friend’s fervent pleas that she was _not_ , in fact, infatuated with Cecelia, ‘who wouldn’t care if we poked a little fun at Feliciano anyway’, Yolotli considered her next moves: her arranged meeting with Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore, and her covert meeting with Sirius Black. Yolotli bit into a dried plum and ate a few cherries, then attacked the nuts. 

After her sit in at Severus Snape’s trial she had gotten nearly half a dozen petitions and requests over the next few days from families of those sent to Azkaban without a trial. What the Ministry had done left the door wide open for one legal nightmare after another and quite frankly a lot of political embarrassment. Notorious Death Eaters like Bellatrix Lestrange surely would have ended up in Azkaban regardless of trial, but other cases such as the case of Sirius Black stood on much shakier ground. They only had the words of a dead man, Peter Pettigrew, who had accused Black in front of a street of Muggles and who could not be questioned. Black had had no trial, nor an interrogation, nor had his wand been checked for the latest spells cast. That might perhaps be the most damning, that no one had bothered casting a Priori Incantatem to see if at least Black’s wand, if not the man himself, had done the deed. He had had no chance to go under Veritaserum or place memories in a Pensieve, no living witnesses called for or against his defense. The man had not even been checked over for the Dark Mark, merely hauled off to prison after the street explosion, and something about the situation didn’t sit right with Yolotli. Going off of the prompting and pleading contained in a letter from Remus Lupin, in which the man outright begged her to look into the case of Sirius Black, she had used a mutual contact they both shared, the man’s cousin Selene Lupin, although she first decided to use a little Blood Magic flavored divination to help her come to a conclusion on whether she should deny or pursue his desire for her to become involved in his friend’s affairs.

Her blood scrying told her that something in it had gone deeply awry and that there was deceit and concealment involved, but she had no idea what that meant. She would have to visit Black and draw her own conclusions before she made any decision on whether she would defend him or not. His case was far from her only concern given just how many people had fallen under suspicion, and it had been a struggle to get the War Crimes and Reconciliation Division of the Council of Magical Law up and running to begin with when everyone just wanted to throw any and every one into prison no matter how tenuous the connection to a Death Eater or how improbable their own guilt. She needed to organize a campaign towards consistently implementing proper interrogation and trial procedures for people whose guilt appeared at least ambiguous if not downright questionable or unlikely. One witch, Athena Ross, a distance relative from a different branch of the family of her dear friend, Eleonor Prince and a first cousin of one Minerva McGonagall, had nearly been thrown in prison for her romantic involvement with Evan Rosier. It was a nightmare. And unfortunately out of most people involved, Yolotli was the one who had the most time to work on straightening out the utter mess of the courts in the wake of Voldemort's downfall. 


	3. A Lady's Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Hufflepuffs aren't useless. Maybe they're even sneakier than anyone imagines. Yolotli makes a calculated move and confides in Severus, Dumbledore sulks about not being in control for once or getting what he wants, and Severus experiences some satisfaction and gets some answers (but not all of them).

True to her word, Lady Aztecatl showed up at Hogwarts the Sunday after the trial just before noon. Albus had a tea service arranged for the meeting, and all of the portraits in the Headmaster’s office were occupied. She knocked softly on the door at twenty minutes before midday. It swung open for her and she stepped through, this time resplendent in a rich turquoise gown and matching robe. Pearl-drop earrings winked out from amidst a few free wisps of hair, the rest of which was twisted into a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck. The same feathered serpent he saw on the day of the trial lay draped across her shoulders like some absurd living boa. Yolotli and it hissed back and forth to each other. Once more they conversed, dunking him in chilly fascination with their words.

Dumbledore, as nonchalant as at their previous meeting, smiled graciously and gestured at the remaining seat in front of his desk. “Please sit, my Lady. Have some tea if you would like.” She grabbed a scone off of the tray and made herself a cup, then sat down beside Severus. The Lady arranged her skirts about her as she settled into the chair, her teacup cradled against her. She lifted her head and met their curious stares unflinchingly. “I have propositions to make. Some concern your Potions Master, although one also concerns you, Lord Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I am only Lord Dumbledore for official business, my Lady. Please, call me Albus.”

She huffed in amusement. “I suppose so—Albus.” She focused on Severus. “May I call you Severus?” Severus felt darkly like the question was just for show since someone like her could call him whatever she liked and get away with it. Yet she waited for his jerky nod of consent before moving on to the purpose of her meeting. “My first proposition for you, Severus, is to teach you what arts I know, namely Alchemy and Blood Magic, but perhaps also other things, like Elemental Magic.”

Severus’ spine straightened instantly. Alchemy hadn’t been taught within the walls of Hogwarts since Dumbledore’s time, neither as classes nor under private tutelage. Neither Elemental Magic nor Blood Magic were taught as their own subject at Hogwarts at all. Severus watched the Lady more calculatingly than before. She must want something great indeed to offer something so valuable and tempting.

The Lady took a sip then continued. Dumbledore appeared to be waiting patiently for the right moment to speak. Judging by the wrinkles on his forehead her offer concerned him. “My second proposition is to do with your personal life. I am willing to facilitate communication between you and my dear friend Eleonor. Eileen May accompany you if she wishes, but I have no way to contact her directly and approach her. It is far easier to speak with you and have you speak to her in turn.” Severus inhaled deeply, unable to hide his reaction as the Lady took another sip. “What are your thoughts? Albus? Severus?”

Severus pursued the, in his mind, more puzzling proposition. “Why?” He pressed. “Why teach me any of your arts?”

“You are powerful and intelligent, and you have great potential and many natural talents.”

“For a halfblood?” Severus couldn’t help but ask bitterly, hating himself for looking a gift-horse in the mouth. She was offering to share her knowledge of Alchemy, Blood Magic, and Elemental Magic, and his abrasive personality might ruin it for him! He sneered to himself. He hoped he wouldn’t be too unpleasant for the Lady. He appreciated not being in Azkaban as much as he realized what her proximity to him might do for his own social standing. He wasn’t a ruthless social climber like Lucius, stabbing any and every person he perceived to be in his way in the back for even a slight foothold, but he recognized that if others saw him as in her good graces, her protection even, then he might be shielded from the backlash that would surely come from the trial once more of the general public became aware of its outcome. Not all read the Prophet, after all, and the news would need time to circulate fully.

The Lady waved her jeweled hand dismissively. “Goodness no. I don’t concern myself with someone’s blood quantum the way some of your kind do. Pureblood, mixedblood, halfblood, mudblood—pardon me, Muggle-born,” she corrected herself before either wizard could express distaste for the term. Severus could see Dumbledore had been even quicker to form protest on his lips than he had been, but she had modified her speech before either could speak. “I see power, potential, talent, and intelligence. You being a halfblood means nothing to me. You’re as valuable and as worthy as any pureblood. In fact, I’ve met purebloods who can barely hold their wand or cast a simple _Lumos_.”

Severus sat back in quiet satisfaction. He might not be instantly dazed out of his wits by receiving praise from her as some lesser, simple-minded wizard thinking with his prick might be, but a part of him preened all the same. The part of him that wondered what she wanted as payment overshadowed it, however. Even Dumbledore seemed to dread the answer as he asked slowly, “And what would you demand of him in return?”

Lady Aztecatl gave Dumbledore a coy look that Severus realized was simply a ploy to mask her cleverness. She wouldn’t be the first woman to manipulate men’s unfortunate fixation on her beauty to her advantage. Narcissa Malfoy and Giuliana Zabini came to mind as examples he knew personally, though thankfully he had the sense not to fall into their traps. “For sharing my knowledge with him? Or for reuniting him with his mother's family? Or perhaps even for my hand in his freedom?”

Dumbledore clasped his hands on top of his desk and sat back with a sigh as a chilly wave of apprehension broke over Severus. Dumbledore’s response would not work to reassure him. “Any of them, my Lady. I’m afraid Severus is a valuable asset of mine and I can’t afford to lose him. If any repayment you want for your...favors...involves something that could harm, maim, or kill him I’m afraid he will have to decline,” Dumbledore admitted frankly, much to Severus’ astonishment. Severus both resented the man for deciding for him what he could and could not do in a way that instantly denied him a vast wealth of knowledge, and felt grateful that he might protect him from any ideas the Lady had for repayment that might leave him in less than one piece.

The Lady gave him a disbelieving look. She sounded exasperated with Dumbledore in a way Severus could appreciate. “Albus, why on earth would I secure his freedom only to make it moot in the same week? Besides, Severus is perfectly capable of coming to a decision about something that concerns him.”

“I have no idea what you consider safe, or more to the point, what you would consider harm. I’m only thinking of Severus’ safety.”

The Lady rolled her eyes. “Really, Albus, he will be perfectly safe with me. I’m sure he can hold his own, and I won’t purposefully endanger him in any sense of the word.”

“I’d still have your word.”

“You shall have it. Or rather, _Severus_ shall have it seeing as it is _his_ safety and not your own. Now, as for what I would ask of him…”

Severus smirked at the look Albus gave her while her attention was elsewhere. Few people handled the Headmaster the way she did, and Severus found it incredibly entertaining. He gloried in the fact that she maintained his agency, acknowledging _his_ will, _his_ desires, rather than treating him the way Albus and the Dark Lord had: as a pawn and as a servant, but never as a full equal capable of thinking—and choosing—on his own. They underestimated him, used him, and took away his dignity. Lady Aztecatl, as socially and politically powerful as she was, spoke to him as if he could be her equal. Perhaps she had a cruel streak that he had yet to witness. Perhaps she had ulterior motives for offering to share her magical knowledge and heal his broken familial ties. Regardless, Severus _wanted_ to say yes, though his Slytherin caution told him to wait to see what debt he would owe. The last thing he wanted to do was fall victim to his ego, insecurity and vulnerability again and end up chained to a third harsh master. Or in this case, a harsh Mistress.

Lady Aztecatl set her cup onto the edge of Dumbledore’s desk and leaned toward Severus, intent upon him. She ticked off each favor with a finger. “Severus. First, I would require no payment to keep a good-hearted, innocent person free of a terrible fate such as you would suffer in Azkaban, except that you do not truly become as they already think you are. If you do, there will be consequences. Second, in exchange for sharing of magical knowledge, I ask only that you attempt to contact your mother, if she still lives, and convince her to have one meeting with Eleonor. She will be obligated to do nothing but show up, and if she is displeased she is free never to speak to her again. Eleonor is a dear friend of mine and only wants a chance to bring her family back together. Third, if you choose to have me set up a meeting with Eleonor to assess whether you can form a relationship, I demand nothing in exchange. I do it out of love for her, and love invokes no debts.”

Really, her offer was generous, Severus mused. She could have asked for much more. She could have demanded his undying devotion or requested he bring her the still-beating heart of an enemy or obtain a priceless item. Instead she asked that he remain who he was (well, he thought, specifically she was warning him not to become a criminal or deserve her ire, since he was currently in her good graces, and that was an implicit warning he would heed with minimal encouragement), speak to his mother about speaking to his grandmother, and consider the remaining favor a freebie. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but either she was incredibly hard to read or she had no plans to screw him over at some opportune moment. He bet more on the latter given how expressive she could be, and how open and honest she continued to be with the two of them. Then again, perhaps _this_ was her way of building devotion. As much as she might insist that ‘love invokes no debts’, he felt quite sure that many would still feel themselves indebted to her, or grateful to her, and obligated to return kindness, if not also loyalty, to her in exchange for the things she gave. She could get what she wanted without twisting their arms, without bribing them, without overtly convincing them. She got her way ever so subtly, without ever being overbearing. What a Hufflepuff yet Slytherin way of doing things. Perhaps they all underestimated the Badger House. Perhaps they were all far sneakier than everyone realized. Small wonder that so many Badgers and Snakes formed friendships. They had different, equally sneaky strategies of accomplishing the same things, and neither House usually included rash, impulsive, hot-headed members, unlike Gryffindor, which had become famous for it.

Lady Aztecatl retrieved her cup of now cold tea and finished it. As she refilled it with fresh, hot liquid, a pleasant herbal scent filled the office air. She made her cup up again with honey and milk, then addressed Dumbledore. “As for you, Albus, I offer my services to the school as Professor of Magical Languages, as I am fluent in Mermish, Elvish, Dragontongue, Gigantus, and Gobbledegook. Hogwarts has never before offered to do so, and I am willing to fill that role. In return I offer my loyalty and protection to those who would oppose the Dark Lord called Voldemort, should he ever return, and I will give my best attempt at identifying the source of, if not successfully breaking, the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.”

Lady Aztecatl briefly looked to Dumbledore, who actually looked interested, if conflicted, as she murmured, “That is the proposition that concerns you, Headmaster.” He nodded once, deep in thought. Severus hoped Albus would say yes to her. He wondered if she knew of the old man’s meddling, and if that motivated her to give him something of benefit as well, something that would nudge him toward an offer he could not refuse with good reason on top of serving as a means to keep him from interfering with the two of them.

“You have given me much to think about, My Lady,” Dumbledore finally replied to her. “And I’m sure Severus has much thinking to do as well. Is that correct, Severus?”

Severus felt a perverse pleasure in the response he gave. “Actually, Albus, I’m inclined to accept each proposition offered to me by Lady Aztecatl.”

Albus frowned deeply, though tried to appear diplomatic as he leaned forward over his folded hands. “Don’t you need longer to think this over my dear boy?”

Severus’s lips twitch as he coolly said, “I’m not sure what there is to think over, Albus. Lady Aztecatl has been more than generous with me and gives me her word that I shall come to no harm. I see no reason to postpone giving her my acceptance.”

Albus’ frown deepened but he kept his peace in front of Lady Aztecatl. Severus easily slipped into a smirk, or more accurately, a shit-eating grin, though he tried to tamp down on his gloating.

Lady Aztecatl clapped her hands happily. “How wonderful, Severus. Where and when we meet depends on whether Albus hires me to teach here or not.” Even as she spoke Severus knew Albus would hire her, assuming she checked out and had the skills and knowledge she claimed. He knew Albus would because he knew that the older wizard would want to try to monitor their activities together. He would also leap at a chance to figure out the curse on the Defense position, and to acquire such a powerful ally against the Dark Lord.

Severus saw it now, in the tilt of her head, her braids pinned up as intricately before; in the way she exuded a look of quiet certainty when Dumbledore busied himself petting Fawkes; the set of her shoulders, sure but not overconfident; the dainty tip upward of her pinky finger. Lady Aztecatl was no fool, and she was getting exactly what she wanted, even if she made it seem like she actually needed Dumbledore to go along with it, even if she placed an advantageous trade in front of each of them. He didn’t know her motivations, but he could see that she was someone who knew what she wanted and strived to obtain it, too. He could see that she would be utterly ruthless when she had to be, that she realized her ambitions and manipulated situations to her advantage. Yes, a Slytherin touch indeed. He was certain that had she been sorted, she would be placed in Slytherin House (or, as he had grudgingly realized at the start of the meeting, Hufflepuff; they were quite good at getting what they wanted as well). As Severus observed her, his respect for her rose, not because she was powerful or immortal, but because of how she had ensnared Dumbledore—even now he could see the struggle in Dumbledore as the old man tried to find a way to refuse—and in the way she fought for Severus because she saw worth in him.

Dumbledore exhaled loud and long. “I believe I shall accept your proposition for me as well, Lady Aztecatl. I see no reason at this time to refuse. You are correct in saying that we have been lacking language education, though it has long been considered by Heads of Hogwarts over the years. This is something we can both get behind. And of course I desire to find and disrupt that curse, and to gain valuable allies. I believe it is when, not if, Lord Voldemort shall return. I shudder to think of him courting you for your support, or to think of you making him a similar offer. I am glad to receive your support.” Startling himself, Severus realized that he had not even considered that possibility.

Lady Aztecatl’s nose wrinkled. “I would never support his side, Headmaster. I am on the side of blood, of life, of balance, of justice. I do not condone his villainy, and I despise tyrants and injustice. Not only do I stand against him, I plan political moves that will ensure fair treatment for all magical beings, not just your kind and mine.”

Dumbledore’s doubt cleared and he bowed his head. “Then we are similarly inclined.”

“Yes, I believe so.” She finished her second cup of tea and stood. “I shall begin creating a loose curriculum and moving some of my things to the school, Albus. I’ll be in touch about both. Severus, owl me with the date and time when you prefer to begin our meetings, as well as when you would like me to facilitate a meeting with Eleonor and whether your mother will be in attendance.”

She inclined her head politely and stepped toward the door. Severus took that as his cue to leave. No way would he be left alone with Albus after _this_ meeting. He stood abruptly and moved to follow her. “I’ll escort you, Lady Aztecatl.”

“Oh?” She seemed pleased, looking over her shoulder at him, hand on the doorknob. “How nice. Shall I take your arm?”

Severus extended his arm to her blandly. She took it and they departed the office together. As the door closed, she said softly, “Severus, if we will be working together you should call me by my given name, Yolotli.”

Severus didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “It would be my pleasure, Yolotli.” Yes, this would be _very_ good for his own protection, for irritating Albus and for exciting Lucius. He didn’t know at that moment which would be more fulfilling.

XXX

“You may not know it, Yolotli, but you have given the Headmaster a run for his money,” Severus remarked as they emerged from the spiral staircase descending from the Headmaster’s office.

“I take it he is the one who normally gets what he wants and not the other way around,” Yolotli replied, grinning in a soft, pleased way.

“I believe he is positively sulking right now,” Severus sneered, “though I am sure he did accomplish far more with this meeting than he thought he might.” He looked at her as they walked, and she saw more of that cloaked curiosity. “He realizes how valuable you are on our side, even if you are, in his opinion, wasting your time with the likes of me.”

Yolotli frowned over at him. “Does he despise you, then? Why would he assist you with your acquittal process if he hates you?”

Severus shook his head. “It is not as simple as that. He does not despise me, but neither does he value me beyond my ‘usefulness’. Even then I am expendable to him in the long-run, a pawn to use in playing his game against the Dark Lord.”

Yolotli brushed her fingers against his wrist, not letting herself feel offended when he flinched at the unexpected physical contact. “Your worth does not lie in how much and how well you can be used, Severus. Please remember that. I did not choose you for superficial reasons. I can taste your magic from here, and I know of your talent and intelligence because Eleonor follows your work.” Severus stopped dead. Yolotli did not immediately realize and had to turn to face him. She cocked her head curiously at him. “You did not know.”

Severus, clearly in shock, merely stared at her, and in it she saw a kind of vulnerability that she was sure he was unaware he was showing. “She follows my work?”

“Yes. All she does is talk about how brilliant you are. Every Potions journal article, every newspaper clipping, anything she finds written about you she saves. She’s spoken with your old Head of House, Slughorn, and when he raved about your talent she seemed pleased. She’s even begged me to mention your name to Nicolas.”

Severus seemed utterly stunned, a first for her to see that much emotion on his usually closed off features. The moment passed, however, and confusion replaced it. “Nicolas?”

“Yes—Nicolas Flamel.”

He sucked in a startled breath. “She begged you to mention my name to _Nicolas Flamel_?” A light of recognition appeared in his eyes, which narrowed. “You know Nicolas Flamel, the only known creator of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Yolotli tilted her head, shrugged. “We know each other casually. We worked together on a few projects. He taught me a few things, and I taught him a few things.” She waved at the hallway behind her. “Let’s keep walking.”

It took him a moment to follow her, but when he did he expertly kept up with her. She could practically see his mind working through the information. She watched him in her peripheral. “I meant what I said in the office. I would never work with your Voldemort.” She could see Severus studying her in return, and therefore witnessed him flinch at the name.

Giving no other sign of discomfort, he said, “You would have absolute power. There would be no one like Fudge who dared to thoughtlessly mouth off to you.”

She crossed her arms behind her back. “I do not want to be a tyrant. Besides, do you really think someone like your Dark Lord would want to share his rule? Even if I wanted to, he would never stop searching for a way to kill me or to become one of my kind.”

Severus’ head jerked sharply. “Are either of those things possible?”

Yolotli bit her lip, glancing around the empty-looking corridor. Before he could utter one sound she gently but firmly grabbed him by the forearm and towed him inside an empty classroom.

She put up Silencing Wards, then looked into the face of a keenly interested Severus Snape whose sharp, intelligent black eyes bore into her. “This never leaves this room, Severus. I want a Blood Oath on that.”

His black eyebrows quirked in a way that clearly meant ‘oh really?’, as if no one would ever have the audacity to ask him to make one. She did not know, but he had heard of Blood Oaths before, though he had never seen one cast. It was a small bit of Blood Magic that was more commonly known than other, more obscure practices. If he betrayed her then her magic would poison his blood and he would die. Severus shuddered. Sepsis followed by septic shock did not stand out as an appealing way to go.

Yolotli did not back down. “I mean it, Severus. Swear that you will tell no one what I divulge about us.”

Severus sneered. “You have already told me more than enough by your reaction. Why you insist on a Blood Oath _now_ —”

Yolotli’s power flared in irritation, though she kept it in check. A part of her told her Severus might have noticed given how he stiffened as he sized her up.

“Severus, I will not harm you, but if you want to know the truth you will do this thing for me.”

Wordlessly Severus extended his non-dominant hand, palm upward. With her wand she made a shallow gash across his open palm. Yolotli laid her nondominant hand atop his so their hands rested palm-to-palm. His skin felt exactly as she predicted, but she said nothing, smothering the thoughts she had earlier in the week about his touch as she concentrated on his Blood Oath. “Do you, Severus Snape, swear to me by blood that you will not willingly divulge any secrets I share with you today unless you have my consent to share them or I release you from this oath?”

For an instant feeling ridiculously like a groom at a wedding he said, “I do.” A faint red glow surrounded their connected hands, dissipating as quickly as it appeared.

Yolotli cleaned and healed his open palm before she spoke, though she did not realize that she held onto it a bit longer than was necessary. Severus noticed but did not know what to make of it. “All right, then, let’s get down to business. Yes, and no. There is a way to kill one of us, but it is so extreme and so terrible a sacrifice that no one would do it, not even Lord Voldemort.”

“What could it possibly be that it would stay even the Dark Lord’s hand?” Severus whispered, filled with dread and slightly horrified already.

Yolotli, who was shorter, peered up at him, up into the midnight pools of his eyes. She could get lost in those eyes if she stared for too long. She quickly looked away, at a blackboard on the far wall.

“I suppose if you think about it, it’s technically Sacrificial Magic, or Blood Magic. I won’t tell you all the details, but it involves a slaughter, and not a small one. Not hundreds, but thousands, _millions_ , and not just anyone. Spill the blood of a specific group of people, and spill enough of it in a short amount of time and it can be used to overwhelm, maim, or even kill one of us, depending on how far someone is willing to go.”

Severus could tell there was something she held back from the explanation, and she could see that he could tell, but neither of them pushed it further. She was, of course, leaving out the part where all the people of one’s own nation must die, where an entire nation must be wiped off the map, including any diaspora and their descendants, anyone who remembered what it was like to see or live in or visit that place, anyone who spoke its language. The death was horrible, slow, agonizing. Each Undying One was rooted to their place. If someone obliterated their place and everything associated with it to the point that it could never exist properly again, then they would die, plain and simple, though it might take a century or a few generations. If the nation were restored somehow, if some of their people survived and kept their memory alive and spoke their language and then established a physical place somewhere else, then they could live, but they might be changed from their experience. “It happened before, after the fall of the Holy Roman Empire and Prussia,” she finally added. “My cousins were orphaned with the HRE incident.” Rome’s death showed them both how slowly and how quickly one of their kind could die.

“So you can be killed,” Severus said at last. She couldn’t decipher his current facial expression.

“Yes, but it is rare, and difficult. Death that way is our only vulnerability. Unless we die we are functionally immortal and mostly invulnerable. Things that would kill you I could recover from, at least with time if not immediately. Once we are born there is no reversing it without committing an incredibly evil act, the very act of which I spoke.”

“The mass-murder, yes,” Severus agreed quietly. It was still valuable information, though she could see he doubted her assessment that ‘even the Dark Lord’ would not commit such an atrocity.

“I don’t just mean his usual Muggle killing here and there,” she insisted with force, “I mean that nothing short of outright genocide could wound us so deeply that we die. And even then, maybe not. At least not immediately.” Not until all traces of their essence had been destroyed, anyway.

Severus appeared deep in thought. “The Dark Lord must never know this,” Severus murmured at last. “I now appreciate why you insisted I swear a Blood Oath. I do not trust him with this kind of information. I assume no one else knows?” 

Yolotli shook her head ‘no’. “Only our kind, and none of us would betray the rest, especially not when we can all be hurt or killed the same way.”

Severus saw the logic in that: none of them could betray the others without betraying and endangering themselves as well. Anyone with even the slightest sense of self-preservation or common sense would avoid letting the secret out where any Dark Lord or malcontent could hear of it.

Yolotli took down the wards with a single flick of her wand and the door swung open. 

“I know you only walked out with me to avoid being cornered by Dumbledore, Severus. I’ll leave it up to you whether you actually walk me to the castle gates or simply tell him that you did.”

Severus grimaced at the thought of the next time he found himself alone with Albus. “I shall try not to be alone with him for the next year.” He once more extended his arm to her. “And I shall go with you so the portraits do not tell him I am actually alone at the moment. In fact, perhaps I should follow your lead and head off for the day. We were to discuss the meeting with you together afterwards, but now I think not. Merlin knows Albus can be a persistent menace when he wants to be.”

The classroom door closed to the peal of Severus and Yolotli’s combined laughter. In his bedroom that night, Severus would later remember he had asked _two_ questions, and wondered how he had only gotten answers to one.


	4. A Covert Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yolotli sneaks, Severus sneaks. There is sneaking. Sirius appears, and so does Eileen.

The day after the Hogwarts meeting found Yolotli in a drastically different environment than the warm, bright halls of the ancient castle. Yolotli wrinkled her nose as she stepped quietly through the long corridors of Azkaban unseen, her misty Quetzalcoatl Patronus flowing along the floor just in front of her. Unlike the very solid weight of Coaxoch coiled around her body under her innermost cloak, its ethereal body had no substance. Inside the walls of Azkaban prison, it smelled of staleness and retching, urine and human filth, sweat and unwashed bodies. It smelled like human despair, human wretchedness. A rush of immense gratitude towards her past self overwhelmed her. She felt ever so glad she had made her clothes and shoes impervious to the dank grossness of the hateful little prison on Azkaban rock. She wore a traveling cloak with a deep, full hood shadowing her face from passerby. She had her wand tucked safely away near her bosom, firmly appreciating the fact that her kind did not need to use them. They could perform wandless magic much more easily than witches and wizards, but found the devices more convenient. They were useful for skimming the surface of their power and using it to fuel spells. 

Once again she thanked herself for her foresight—the denizens of Azkaban failed to notice her time and again until she came upon them directly, thanks to her concealment charms that hid her scent and the sound of her footsteps. They also hid her from the sight of others unless she approached them directly, a variation on Notice-Me-Not. As soon as she walked away they would suddenly find they had forgotten just what had grabbed their attention a moment earlier. She knew some of them probably sensed her as a presence, but without wands they could do nothing but huddle in their cells and hold onto whatever shred of sanity that remained to them. As she stalked past each cell, looking for a face that matched the photo clutched in one brown hand, the cries rang out: the pleading, the begging, the threats. Some of them just sobbed, too distraught for words. 

“Water, just give me some water!” a thin, balding man wailed from one cell. 

“Please let me out, mate, I’ll do anything, anything you want!” cried a witch with oily, stringy blonde hair and green eyes. 

“Come closer and I’ll fucking kill you,” snarled one already half-deranged man with long, thick ropes of matted hair and bloodshot hazel eyes. She wasn’t sure which threat was worse, his or the hungry-looking, maniacally grinning man in the cell next to him promising how he would brutally sexually assault her the moment he got out. That one she hexed, right in the bollocks. He fell with a groan cut short by him falling unconscious. She’d just magically castrated him so that if he ever did manage to break out he could never harm any woman he came across in the way he had threatened to harm her. Coaxoch squeezed her gently, her version of a hug. If the man had actually been a physical threat, she would have sunk her fangs into him and pumped him full of potent neurotoxin. The mage and her familiar kept going, Yolotli treading carefully so as not to catch the attention of the Dementors. Her Patronus still blazed at full power, the only brilliant thing in the dark halls. 

Eventually she found him, by process of elimination, amongst those imprisoned for conviction as Death Eaters, though whether they all were indeed true Death Eaters she had no idea. She had checked every cell and still not found him when she came upon one with an enormous shaggy black dog residing within it. The dog lifted its head as she approached, sniffing the air. When she stopped squarely in front of the cell and met its gaze it leapt back with a snarl. Hazarding a guess, she said, “Lord Sirius Black?” The dog bared its teeth at her, growling. She crossed her arms, scowling at the nearly bear-sized dog. “I know you must be Sirius Black. I have searched this entire cell-block and yours is the only one left. I don’t have time for you to pretend to be a mutt. Revert to your human form of your own free will at once so we can converse properly, or I shall have to do it for you.” 

While she knew human expressions didn’t exactly translate onto canines she could have sworn he gave her an angry, hateful look. He took so long that she didn’t think he would do it. She withdrew her wand to cast the spell but suddenly his body started changing, shrinking in on itself, the thick curly black fur receding until only thick curly black hair remained, hanging around a very human face. By the way he looked she knew others would find Sirius Black handsome, even if she did not (in fact, she found the exceedingly unconventionally attractive Severus Snape far more handsome than Black). While he had been changing, she had, with swift efficiency, reworked her spells to include Black. She didn’t need him forgetting her when they were finished any more than she needed the other prisoners to overhear their conversation. It would be tedious and tiresome to have to reintroduce herself over and over again to the man, and if worse came to worse she could trap him in a Blood Oath about anything incriminating he might learn about her.

“So,” Black snarled, sounding like the nightmarish hound he from which he had just transformed, “I suppose the Ministry knows I’m an unregistered Animagus now.” He spat on the ground between them. “Didn’t hear you coming. Didn’t see you or smell you.” He stepped so close to the bars that he could lean his forehead against them and wrap his hands around them. He still looked somewhat healthy, though no doubt paler and dirtier than when on the outside, and obviously much less kempt, if the state of his hair, beard, and nails had anything to say about it. “I thought the Dementors were coming. I shift when I know they’re coming.” 

“I’m not a Ministry employee,” Yolotli said, then quickly amended, “well, mostly not one.”

Black cocked his head at her. “No, they wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to hide their presence.” He paused thoughtfully. “Which means you aren’t here...officially.” His lips curled upward, but no one could have called the expression a smile. “So why are you here, then?”

Yolotli stepped closer to him, but not close enough for him to grab her. Black might not be a Death Eater after all but that didn’t mean he was safe, and Merlin and Morgana only knew what damage Azkaban had already done to his mind. “There are some irregularities in your case,” she started. “Your friend Remus Lupin owled me on your behalf. It turns out you’re only in this cell on shaky legal ground and it might not hold up if we challenge the decision—but,” she added when she saw something like hope flare in Black’s eyes, “everything has to check out. If I suspect that you’re really a Death Eater or that you assisted them in any way, including with the attack on the Potters—”

Those words seemed to animate Black like no others. “No, never, I would never help Voldemort! I would never betray Lily and James, never!”

Yolotli gave him a hard look. “I’m no fool, Black. Even if you’re telling the truth I wouldn’t know right now and I can’t go forward only on your word. I’ll do my own investigating, and of course there are basic things that should have been done. You had no trial, no interrogation. Not a single person checked your wand with Priori Incantatem. By Merlin’s saggy cock, they didn’t even check to see if you had a Dark Mark! I know, not the most foolproof method since not all Death Eaters had one, but if you were supposedly as close to Voldemort as they claim—”

“I wasn’t!” Black yelped indignantly. He had appeared entertained when she used the British wizarding population’s favorite turn of phrase to swear.

Yolotli continued as if he had not interrupted. “No one even gave you Veritaserum or examined your memories in a Pensieve! They didn’t even examine the memories of those Muggles before they Obliviated them! I don’t know you, Black, not personally and not politically, but I think your case is one of the ones that can be challenged, if it checks out that you’re not shady—dodgy, to you Brits—in some way.”

Black watched her thoughtfully through half-lidded eyes, half-cautious, half-amazed. “You said Remus wrote to you? About me?” 

“Yes,” Yolotli replied, “I got the sense that you meant a great deal to him, and he is right to be concerned. He brought up many of his suspicions, and they all checked out to the letter. You did not receive any part of the judicial process except the end result.”

Sirius looked at her oddly. “I thought you said you had yet to conduct your investigation.”

Yolotli graced him with a tight-lipped smile. “I haven’t conducted my investigation into you, Lord Black. I’ve already followed through about the violation of your rights. Remus has a cousin, Selene, who works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she asked around about the details of your case. She’s not terribly high ranking, but she’s resourceful and she knows people. No, what I need to know about is if you’re innocent of the crimes you were assumed to have committed. Because if you are you were truly fucked by the system.” His eyes widened. No doubt he hadn’t expected the words from her—apparently some people actually took her for some dainty high society belle who fainted on the first letter of ‘fuck’. 

Black had gone very quiet. “So you mean...if you look into me and can conclude I’m not a Death Eater, then...I could be...free?” His voice broke on the last word. She could hear the tears there even if he kept them from falling. 

“Yes,” she said, unspooling a tiny coil of power and extended her awareness past herself, letting it reach out to him. As soon as it touched him she mentally recoiled. He wasn’t evil but he had a cruel streak and could hate without reason. No doubt he had been the worst kind of bully when he was younger. Not pure of heart, then, but possibly innocent of the charges brought against him. 

“I could claim custody of Harry,” Sirius went on dreamily, clearly not noticing her examination of him. 

“Who? I’m sorry, I’m not from here…” 

The distant look in Black’s eyes faded and he refocused on her. “Harry Potter. My godson.” Oh, that Harry, she thought ruefully. “I’m his rightful legal guardian. I don’t know who he’s placed with now but I’m sure they’ll understand…”

She hadn't realized a child would be involved. Neither Remus nor Selene told her custody rights might be an issue in the case. “I can’t promise anything, even if the Potters wrote it down in their will. They’ll want you to undergo evaluations and a competency hearing.”

“Competency hearing? You mean I might not get Harry?” This sounded like it might be as bad to Black as not getting out at all. 

“It’s just procedure,” Yolotli soothed. “And if for some reason you don’t get custody, as long as you don’t pose a danger to the child you’ll at least get visitation. I’m sure whoever his current guardian is will be reasonable.”

Sirius looked lost. Yolotli saw that it really never occurred to him that he could get out and still not have Harry. It seemed to shock him more than the possibility of getting out at all. A sudden chill made her shiver. She looked up and saw a Dementor’s long shape at the far end of the corridor. “I have to go,” she said, “the Dementors are making their rounds. You’ll see me again, Sirius Black. If you’re not a Death Eater I’ll help you secure your release. If you are, you’ll rot in here. Good day.” She turned, pulling herself even further into her hood, wand at the ready. 

“Wait,” Sirius called desperately. 

She hesitated, one foot extended. “Make it quick Lord Black.”

“Can you tell me your name?” 

Yolotli glanced at him over her shoulder. “Another time. If you check out we’ll be seeing each other soon. I’m going to speak to Remus. He can point me toward people who can speak to your character and vouch for you. If I’m satisfied I’ll arrange for an official meeting and push to have your case reopened. You see, you don’t just have to prove yourself to the legal system. You prove yourself to me first and should you be innocent I will defend you. No one innocent of their charges should be imprisoned here for them.” Her eyes darted to the Dementor, which drifted ever closer. Frost edged the stones of the floor. “Now I really must go.”

She put more energy into her Patronus and retreated as quickly as she dared. As soon as she got off of this cursed rock she would speak to Remus, and if needed, Selene.

XXX

Severus would have dithered for the rest of the week and possibly through the entirety of the next as well if he didn’t possess a burning desire to learn from Yolotli. That, and, though he might be loath to admit it out loud, a part of him wanted a family reunification if at all possible. If nothing else he would at least get to meet his family, and Eileen would get to see her mother again. Twenty odd years had passed between them since she had last set foot in that house or looked upon her mother’s face. She more than Severus had more riding on this, in some ways. 

Severus would never know what he was missing, while Eileen would lose everything again for the second time. On the other hand, Severus had been alone for far too long over his short life. For many years he had had only his mother and father, and of course Lily. But his father was a cruel, abusive asshole and Lily had died. Now he only had his mother, and he would hang on to her for dear life. Perhaps he was lying to himself, and they both had something to lose. 

Severus, with worry chewing his stomach as he sat by the fire, barely registered the house elf as it brought a tray of tea things from the kitchens to their secret room. For Eileen’s own safety they decided against ever meeting in her quarters or his. No one outside of the need-to-know could discover her identity. Even if the Dark Lord never rose again, there would be rogue Death Eaters, sympathizers, and children of both who might wish her ill, or pureblood fanatics who disagreed with her reproducing with a Muggle man, or simply people who hated Severus. That number likely soared after the spectacle of his trial. 

His mother would arrive any minute still not knowing the purpose of their meeting. She had no idea that Eleonor wanted to make amends, or that Lady Aztecatl would facilitate (or really that the Lady was so heavily involved in his current affairs at all—the Prophet might have speculated about it, but lacked hard facts). With distaste he noticed a loose thread on the cuff of his right sleeve. A moment later he watched as it drifted gently to the floor courtesy of a tightly controlled severing charm. He so hated when any of his clothes showed signs of wear. It made him think of his days living in what could only be described as abject poverty. He so hated for anything to be wrong with his clothing. He might have come from nothing, but he could do better for himself now, so he did. 

Five more minutes passed, and then the wards chimed to let him know that his mother had arrived. As soon as she stepped fully into the room and the opening shut behind her the persona of Madam Pince dropped. Perhaps it was because he knew her so well, but the bearing more than the glamor hid her from him. She unclasped the bracelet holding the glamor in place and his mother’s real face blossomed into view. “Severus,” she breathed softly. For a long moment she simply stared at him, then fast as lightning she ran to him. He found himself standing without registering the action, suddenly finding his mother's arms around him. He might be so much taller and broader than her now, but her embraces felt as reassuring, warm, and loving as they had when he was five and he skinned his knee. “Mother,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame with more care than she had used. 

“Oh my Little Magpie,” she whispered, something she used to call him as a child because he loved to collect things, “no matter how old you get you’ll always be the babe I held in my arms as much as the man he grew up to be.” She held him at arm's length, looking up at his face. A hand rose to lightly touch his cheek. “I was so—so scared, Severus. It’s a mother’s worst nightmare, to want to go to you, to save you, to protect you, but to be unable to.” She brought him close again, stilling when her ear slid over his heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re all I have, Magpie.” 

Severus was never a man to show his most vulnerable emotions—really only his anger escaped in front of others while he kept everything else under lock and key until he could be alone. Holding his mother as she cried into his shirt destroyed him, though. It tested that aloof facade he worked so hard to maintain. For a time after Lily’s death he questioned whether or not he should be alive. The thought of leaving Eileen alone demolished any such feelings that lingered, and reminded him of why they were meeting that day in the first place—besides the obvious good news of his acquittal. He peered down ah her dark head, thinking of how best to bring it up. After silent deliberation, he decided to start from the beginning, but only after they both got settled with food and tea. 

“There’s something I must tell you,” he said softly, gently guiding her to her usual chair. “Do not be alarmed. It has nothing to do with the trial…” So he told her about Lady Aztecatl, about his day in court, about the meeting with the Lady in Dumbeldore’s office, about her offer. He explained her terms, and then he waited for Eileen to react. 

“My mother—your grandmother—she wants to see us? Eleonor wants us back?” The shock was evident, though he noticed her hand didn’t shake as she raised her teacup to her lips. “She’s really willing to reclaim me— to claim you?” Even with keeping trembles at bay, Eileen looked like she might faint. Her already pale skin looked whiter than a sheet. While not prone to being easily overwhelmed, the news clearly unsettled her. 

“If Lady Aztecatl is to be believed, yes,” he replied calmly. “Apparently only Eleazer disowned you, not Eleonor. They disagreed over it, and she convinced him to change his mind, but by the time she had we were gone and they had no way to find us.”

“They could have bloody owled,” Eileen replied petulantly, a spark of hope dancing in her eyes despite her dark expression. 

“Yes, I think they could have,” he agreed, looking into his tea as if he could divine why they hadn’t from its murky depths. “Perhaps they tried. We’ll have to ask. But mother...it’s up to you. I know what Yolotli—Lady Aztecatl that is—said, but I’m sure I could tell her you refused and she would accept it. I….I would rather not go without you, and if you wish not to see them again I’ll honor that decision.”

“Oh, Severus.” She sighed and set down her cup. “I don’t want what happened between my parents and I to affect your relationship with them. If you want to see them, you can.”

Severus leaned forward and took his mother’s hands in his own. Many people who knew him would find the gentleness he displayed to his mother hard to believe, but Lily was not the only person he loved. Severus Snape was a man who loved fiercely. “Mum,” he said gently, tugging on her thumb. “If you want to see them again, you should. If not, I won’t abandon you.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to base your decision off of mine. They’re not...they’re not bad people, all things considered. I just don’t know if I’m ready to see them again.”

He had only ever loved two people in the world up to that point in his life, and he hated seeing either be worried or stressed. “I understand,” he said, and he did, but he still felt a stab of disappointment. A part of him that he might not ever acknowledge longed for family. 

Eileen looked into his eyes, eyes as deep and black as her own. “I’ll do it,” she said softly, “for you if not for me. Don’t get me wrong, I want to see my mother again, I do, I just need time, Magpie. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to see my father, though.” She reached up and out to stroke his hair, and for a moment he felt like he did the time he brought a puppy home and his father disappeared with it. They never found it. Tobias said they hadn’t needed another mouth to feed. Severus knew all about difficult fathers, though he realized Tobias and Eleazer would be very different men. Eleazer let his views on purity tarnish his relationship with his daughter when she married an outsider, and Severus’ father abused them. As far as he knew from Eileen, Eleazer never raised a hand to either her or Eleonor, so the man got a point towards himself in Severus’ book. That didn’t make him pleasant to be around, though. 

“I can write Yolotli and through her get a request to Eleonor about meeting her alone the first time. We can set up a date and time for a meeting in the same letter, if you’re ready, or if you’re not we can ask in the next correspondence.” 

“Yes, yes, let’s do that.” She fell silent. 

Severus studied her, the unhappy set of her mouth, her eyes like looking in a mirror, her dark hair twisted up in a bun. How could he have joined the Death Eaters and put her through all he had? His Muggle father was an odious, heinous man, but being a Muggle had nothing to do with it. Tobias was foul, rotten to the core with no doubt about his guilt, but his heritage had not been the cause. Yet Severus, blinded, wanting desperately to belong, to feel powerful and wanted and accepted, had decided to follow a madman. Complete idiocy, he thought. He couldn’t have been more of a fool. How could he have given his life to the Dark Lord for scraps of mediocre, contextual acceptance when the person who had always loved him unconditionally sat right here in front of him? 

“Mum,” he said, and waited until those chips of obsidian held his gaze. “I love you,” he said, uncharacteristically choked by emotion. He hadn’t said those words in years. 

“Oh Magpie.” And now she was crying, and hugging him again. “I love you too.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly. 

She only hugged him harder. “No matter what happens with my mother and father,” she whispered, “we’ll always have each other.”

It seems he had some letter-writing to do.


	5. A Conversation With A Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Yolotli talk. House-elves continue to have a strange sense of fashion.

As soon as she got back from her Azkaban visit Yolotli owled Lupin with instructions to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron the same day, preferably as soon as he could. She had no desire to waste any time given that she had before her a potentially very large, extremely politically significant, incredibly grave miscarriage of justice. As she waited for his reply she immediately made a list of contacts that she might need, jotting them down with a Muggle pen onto a muggle pad of paper. She set it to the side, then used the same pen and a blank sheet of paper, deliberately foregoing her inkpot, quill, and parchment. She wanted to scratch out a short letter to Severus Snape without intimidating him, making an effort to show her acceptance of his heritage as she inquired whether he would like to take lunch with her later that week. She would begin moving some of her belongings to the castle, as the Headmaster would no doubt send her a letter of acceptance of her terms within the next forty-eight hours. It would be a convenient time for the two of them to meet.

Barely an hour and a half later a sleek wolf Patronus with powerful-looking shoulders and a scarred muzzle glided through the left wall of her study, where she sat at her desk outlining a rough syllabus, and bounced to a halt in the center of the room. Its mouth opened and an unfamiliar voice issued out. “This is Remus Lupin replying: I can come immediately. I should be there within half an hour.” As it spoke its last word the Patronus dissipated. Lupin, who had most likely been sleeping due to the early hour when her owl found him, probably needed time to get ready first. Yolotli rose from her seat, summoning her house-elf, Nelli, in the same breath. 

Nelli, a free elf who had willingly bonded to Yolotli, appeared instantly. She regularly wore children’s clothing. Currently she had on green corduroy overalls over a floral shirt, and gelled sandals on her feet. “Yes, Miss Yolotli? What does Miss Yolotli need?”

Yolotli quickly explained the situation to her friend, who readily agreed to accompany her. Despite her inability to be transformed or killed by Lupin in his wolf form (and his inability to access it outside the time of the full moon), she knew her friend would want to be at her side when she met him. While she held no personal prejudice against werewolves, she also knew that while many, or even most, were good people afflicted with a terrible disease, some were only bent on attacking non-infected humans. The notorious Fenrir Greyback came to mind. More than that, Sirius Black could really be a Death Eater, and some werewolves were known to side with them at the chance for a better life. Lupin could very well be one of them, with his disease status and connection to Black. She couldn’t be too careful, even if they couldn’t kill her in their attack. And if someone ever did find out the way to incapacitate someone like her in the midst of a duel, she would be all but helpless.

Meanwhile, as they talked, Coaxoch, who had been sleeping underneath a sun lamp on a mock-rock enchanted with a Warming Charm, stirred from her slumber and unwound her coiled body with a hiss of sleepy satisfaction. She preened her feathers a moment first, then slithered over to her companion and snapped at her ankles affectionately. As she started climbing Yolotli’s body, she spoke. “You are bringing Nelli to speak to the wolf-man?”

Yolotli looked down at her companion. “Yes. He sent a Patronus saying he could meet within half an hour. We go early to wait for him.”

Coaxoch slid into place around her shoulders and arranged herself harmlessly, or as harmlessly as a large snake could appear to a non-Parselmouth. Yolotli and Nelli put on their traveling cloaks, automatically drawing their hoods. Like the rest of her clothes, Nelli’s was a child’s version. She held out her hand for Yolotli’s, and Yolotli took it. She thought of the nearby alley often used as an Apparition point and with a familiar sickening twist they arrived a moment later. They Disillusioned themselves and quickly traveled the few steps from the alley to the door of the Leaky Cauldron. They did not drop the charm until they head each stepped safely inside the door. Once inside, they saw that it must be a slow morning. Only one customer, an old wizard stooped with age, sat having breakfast, and only one patron, a plump middle-aged witch, sat at the bar. Otherwise the room lacked customers. Tom, the toothless barman, looked up from puttering around to grin at their arrival. “What’ll yeh have?” he called hopefully. 

Yolotli had of course eaten a little fruit earlier, before she went to Azkaban for the visit with Sirius Black, but realized now that she felt as famished as if she hadn’t eaten at all. She went up to the counter and, after much fruitless explanation, changed her intended order of huevos rancheros, frijoles refritos, y arroz rojo to a breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon, beans, and potatoes with a cup of steaming tea. Nelli copied her but asked for a half portion. Tom happily obliged. It didn’t seem to faze the old bartender to have an elf place an order. Then again, Yolotli supposed he’d served all types for decades and had therefore likely had far stranger customers. That, or companion elves ordering for their families. After a moment of thought Yolotli placed a third order for Lupin and sat down in a corner booth to wait as Tom shuffled into the kitchen to give the cook their orders. She slid in first, nearest the wall. Nelli sat beside her. 

Their tea arrived shortly. Tom set an old but serviceable tea set on the table, along with empty cups, and retreated to the bar. They only had to wait fifteen minutes. Just as the cook came out with their food, the door opened and a ragged-looking man in his early twenties stepped into the pub. His clothes were dull and shabby, his mousy hair mussed, his parlor highlighting the scars across his skin. He seemed tired, his young face pale and drawn. He glanced around the pub, first at the old wizard, then at the plump middle-aged witch, finally settling on the table where Yolotli sat waiting—Nelli had gone for the food. Yolotli beckoned him over. He hesitantly complied. When he got within a distance that wouldn’t require her to shout across the room, she wasted no time. “Remus Lupin?” 

“Yes,” he sat down across from her slowly. “I wasn’t sure you would come in person. I thought you might send someone to speak in your place.”

Yolotli began making her own tea. “No, I conduct my own business, Mr. Lupin. Why would I not?”

Lupin looked firmly at the table. “I considered it likely that someone of your caliber might not want to deal directly with...someone like me.” He eyed the pub warily at the last bit. 

Yolotli followed his worried gaze. In her peripheral she saw Nelli arrive with a tray burdened down by their meals, holding far more than it should be able to. Yolotli cast a few spells for privacy, then gave him a moment to look directly at her. “I do not hold your lycanthropy against you. I realize many of your kind—and by that I mean British, human wizards— are prejudiced against someone with your affliction, but I hope to see that change.” She sipped from her teacup. “Besides, you cannot change one of the Undying as you can change our human counterparts. I cannot become as you are, and therefore have no need to fear your bite.”

The look on Lupin’s face spoke volumes. Relief, perhaps to not face prejudice for one of the only times in his life, especially from someone of high status, and shock, perhaps from her speaking so frankly about something he probably went through pains to conceal. “That is...good to know.” He reached for the tea things, doing a double take when he realized that Nelli had sat down with them and made a teacup of her own. “Is this your elf, then?”

Nellie answered him. “Nelli is a free elf, sir!”

“Ah…” Her declaration clearly surprised Lupin. “Wonderful.” 

Yolotli smiled at him, lowering her hood. She watched as his eyes tracked over her face. Nelli passed a plate to Yolotli, then to Lupin. 

“You ordered for me,” he said uncertainly. 

“Yes,” Yolotli said, picking up her cutlery, “I hope the meal is pleasing to you. I have no idea what you like.”

Lupin’s eyes snapped to her face. “This is fine. It’s just, ah, I ah...” he winced apologetically. “I can’t afford to pay for this. I understand if you want to send it back before I touch it, or maybe you’d like to keep it yourself, for later—”

Yolotli waved her hand as if swatting aside his unease. “Nonsense. If you’re hungry and you like this, eat. I can afford it. Besides, you look like you could use it.” 

She groaned internally a moment later when Lupin blushed. Clearly she had embarrassed him. “I apologize. That came out poorly.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. Soon he too had tea, though he still seemed surprised that they had ordered for him as well. That quickly faded when he realized Nelli also had a dish. He watched Nelli start to eat with interest, clearly never having seen an elf eat breakfast, let alone sit to eat it with witches and wizards. 

Yolotli did not waste any time. She let him eat for a few minutes, then spoke freely. “I want to update you on the matter you brought to my attention. I performed divination first. I then reached out to your cousin Selene on your suggestion. She’s a good contact that I think I’ll use in the future—a very resourceful young witch. I told her of your inquiry and my interest in it and she agreed to look into your friend, Sirius Black. It seems your concerns have merit. The case is irregular, and it appears a violation of rights did occur.” 

Lupin paused with his toast raised half-way to his mouth and sat up straighter. He swallowed twice then put the toast down to take a drink of tea. “What...what exactly does this mean?”

Yolotli stabbed at her eggs. “It means that I’ll look into Sirius Black himself. If he checks out, if he’s not a Death Eater, if he wasn’t involved in the attack on the Potters or anything else…” Lupin gasped but she continued. “If I find proof he’s innocent of these crimes I’ll have his case reopened. I’ll personally be behind the push to have it re-examined. He never had a trial. He’ll get that, and presumably, with the new evidence he should be cleared of all charges. Then he’ll be released.”

Lupin’s fork, which he had been holding in his other hand, clattered to his plate. “Just like that?”

Yolotli eyed him carefully. “‘Just like that’, although I doubt it will all be over in a single day. It’s not an instantaneous process. There are other steps. First I need character witnesses to attest to the fact that, to their knowledge, he was not knowingly involved in any Death Eater activities. I might need alibis for dates and times that attacks were known to have occurred. This is for me, to know I’m throwing support behind the right person. You understand why.” Sure, she could give him Veritaserum right off the bat—but it wouldn’t look good for her politically if he actually were to confess to being a Death Eater during an official interrogation after she personally went to bat for him. Usually she wasn’t one for politics, but a blunder like that, especially on such a high profile case, could hurt any cause she wanted to crusade for before the Wizengamot. Who would trust her judgement if she could be fooled by a Death Eater like any low-level Ministry stooge? Politics were a pain in the ass. If she didn’t have to worry about public perception she could plow ahead as she pleased. The public wouldn’t be forgiving of incompetence, even from one of her kind. 

She waited for him to nod before continuing. “After that, once I have some reassurance that he’s clean— some reasonable doubt toward his guilt— it should be enough for me to then arrange an official, on the books interview with Black. I can do things that will ultimately help his case, like have his memories examined or use Veritaserum on him in front of a witness—perhaps someone politically neutral like your cousin, rather than someone polarizing like Lord Dumbledore or Lady Zabini. Perhaps I could even coax Madam Bones or one of the Elders to accompany me. Then, he can either be acquitted with or without a trial. Being a member of the Wizengamot I have the authority to call meetings or to bring any matter of my choosing before the others. We could potentially clear it all up at that meeting, or they may feel he needs to go to trial. Either way it will take at least three days to a week to get straightened out.” 

Yolotli resumed eating, giving Lupin a significant look. It took him a while to speak, but when he finally did he sounded dazed. “This is...far more than I hoped for when I first wrote you. I did not assume you would become so involved.”

Yolotli sat forward, gesturing with her fork. “But of course. A man innocent of all charges could be serving a life sentence without even a sham trial to show for it!”

Lupin smiled, some mixture of emotion—awe, amazement, disbelief—contributing to his dazed look. “You have no idea how much this means to me. We were school friends and...and lovers.” He nearly whispered the last word. “To think that he might not have betrayed our three best friends—”

He leaned back into the booth behind him as if he might faint. Yolotli extended a concerned hand. “Are you alright, Mr. Lupin?” 

Lupin gazes at her with that same hope she saw in Black’s eyes present in his own. “More than alright. In fact, I haven’t had such good news in such a long time.”

“Well,” she cautioned. “Not yet. Not quite. He has to check out before I ever make a move. And names. I need a list.” She took out the same pen and pad from earlier. “Write some out here. Anyone who knew him well enough. I’ll speak with them. If I’m convinced, I’ll help him.” She needed a safety net, a reassurance that helping Black wouldn’t be political suicide. She pushed them toward Lupin, who had a bemused look on his face as he saw the Muggle items, but didn’t immediately take her hand off when he reached to accept them. “If he’s a Death Eater I’ll do nothing. He’ll die there.” 

“I know,” Lupin said after a heavy, depressed pause from him. She removed her hand and he flipped the pad open and clicked the pen. Scratching filled the air as he wrote. Yolotli felt her eyebrows arch as the name Albus Dumbledore went on first, followed by others she had heard in passing but didn’t know—Minerva McGonagall, who worked at the school with Severus; Arthur Weasley, who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and his wife, Molly Weasley née Prewett, a housewife; Aurora Sinistra, the Hogwarts Astronomy Professor; Lady Augusta Longbottom, her fellow Wizengamot member; Mary MacDonald, the court scribe; Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror; Dedalus Diggle, who she did not know; Marlene McKinnon, the only one of her family to survive a brutal Death Eater strike against the McKinnons; his own name, and a few others. He filled a single column down the page, and part of a second, then handed it to her. “I would have added Frank and Alice Longbottom, the married auror couple, but after what happened last month...”

She knew what had happened last month. It had shocked everyone. She once suspected that she might have a way to help them, using Blood Magic, but she had no way to test the theory. Lady Longbottom might not have personal animosity towards her, but she was a sharp old witch who might want something she couldn’t give, even if she could put her distrust of Yolotli aside to allow her access to the damaged couple. “I understand, Mr. Lupin. May I call you Remus? If so, you may call me Yolotli.”

Lupin regarded her with some surprise, but nodded. “It would be my pleasure. Would you like to write to them about it or should I?” 

Yolotli thought on that for a moment. “While I would rather be able to ensure you do not bias them, I also know that if I wrote to them first that would bias them in a different way. They might feel strange if I seemingly wrote to them out of the blue making inquiries. No, I need you, Remus, so that they trust me and trust that I am not doing anything suspicious. Perhaps we should make the visits in person, together?”

Remus stared at her. “You really think they’re that willing to turn you away?”

She blinked calmly at him. “I frighten people, Remus. I am not special in that regard, though, as all of my kind do. Surely you understand, although why you frighten them is for an entirely different reason.”

Remus flushed, and Yolotli quickly moved to reassure him. “Again, I do not mean to insult you or to insinuate anything about lycanthropes. I only meant to explain that we are not necessarily any more trusted. What separates us is what people do with their fear of us. They give your people disgust, scorn, or mistreatment, and many give ours respect, awe, or deference.”

“Considering how most people see your kind, Yolotli, I don’t think you have nearly as much to worry about as I do,” Remus politely corrected. “At least when it concerns the general public. Although given that everyone on this list has been an ally of mine in the past I know I won’t have any trouble with these people.”

“I do not want them to feel as if they cannot refuse, and some may feel that way if I am the one to ask,” Yolotli explained gently. “I want to tread carefully. I don’t want to throw my weight around unnecessarily and force them to take action.” 

“You want them to talk to us because they want to, not because they feel compelled to,” Remus summarized. “I understand.” He stroked his chin. “If we go through Dumbledore first the others are far more likely to cooperate. You are right that in this case they may be warier of you. They trust his judgement, and he can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

Yolotli inclined her head in acknowledgment, amusement on her face. “That he can, although so far I have been able to dance out of his grasp.”

Remus chuckled. It made him look his age. “I can imagine how gracefully he took that.” 

Yolotli grinned. “Whatever image you have is probably correct. Perhaps we can speak to Minerva McGonagall and Aurora Sinistra as well. They should all be up at the school. They suspended class for about a week in celebration of...” she winced, then continued. “You know. There isn’t much time left before the Winter Holidays, but they’re finishing out the semester strong.”

Remus turned pensive. “Ah, yes, I had heard about the school situation. A worthy celebration, brought on by a great tragedy.” A personal tragedy for Remus, and if his story were true, for Black as well. 

Yolotli placed her hand comfortingly over his. “I know that the Potters meant a lot to quite a few people. It seems like they were well-liked and well-loved. I didn’t know them well, as I am a foreigner to these lands, but I give my condolences to you.”

Remus blinked back tears and gifted her with a weak smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

Yolotli squeezed his hand then withdrew from him. “I was planning to have lunch with Severus later this week, sometime after Dumbledore sends me his acceptance of my offer to teach magical languages at Hogwarts. I know new professors typically don’t start until the beginning of a new school year, but I can honestly start teaching as soon as next term, which is my plan, and in the meantime I can move in and get used to the castle.”

“You’ll be teaching at the school?” Remus sounded as if it had never occurred to him that she could. 

“If Dumbledore allows it. I offered, and am waiting for his owl to know if he agrees to it.”

Remus took an unusually long sip of tea, then his eyes widened as if he had just remembered something. He put his cup down heavily. “And you’re having lunch with Severus? Severus Snape?”

“Yes. Surely you’ve read the paper lately. You know that I spoke up at his trial.”

“Yes, but lunch?” He seemed genuinely curious, though also genuinely baffled. “You don’t expect all three of us to have lunch together do you?”

“Goodness, no! The lunch with Severus is private. However, I think that you could accompany me to Hogwarts, but instead of coming to lunch with me, you could drop in for a visit with old professors you might want to see. You’re young, and I’m sure many of them taught you.”

“They did, yes, quite a few, including McGonagall. Three have retired in the past two or three years, though. They were all quite old and all taught for at least a decade if not more. Horace Slughorn retired last year, replaced by Severus Snape. Old Constance Burbage--the Burbages almost always go into teaching, somehow--retired, replaced by Aurora Sinistra. The Sinistra family has always had a talent for Astronomy. Third, and last, as far as I know: Madeline Baddock, replaced by Quirinus Quirrell. All of the replacements are from my year.” 

“Perhaps, then, you could hope to get a position when or if someone else retires,” Yolotli said encouragingly. “If Dumbledore is hiring young, fresh talent to replace the retirees.”

Remus shook his head miserably. “I doubt even Albus Dumbledore could get away with hiring a werewolf to teach at his school. Prejudice against us runs too deep. There would be massive public outcry.”

Yolotli pursed her lips, “Is your lycanthropy status widely known?”

“No, thankfully, or I wouldn’t find employment at all, but I can never stay at a new place for long. I have to avoid them finding out about my...condition.”

By this point they had barely made a dent in breakfast, a consequence of their lengthy discussion and therefore slow eating. Yolotli put down her fork and clasped her hand in front of her on the table. “Do you at least have a place to stay consistently?”

“Yes. My mother sends money to help me pay for a flat. My father doesn’t know.”

“But no continuous employment at the moment.” 

“No.” The sullenness in his voice told her he felt he never would.

Yolotli pinched the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could say I had quick fixes for you, Remus. I am trying, along with Albus and Augusta, to push for legislation that would offer those with your condition legal protections, but so far we have not had much luck. In fact, the last time we brought it up there were some members calling for lycanthropes to be imprisoned, sterilized, or executed, to name a few of their “solutions”, so I have no doubt that it will be a long and arduous fight.”

Remus paled and shuddered at her mention of the “solutions”, and rightfully so. 

Yolotli sighed. “Don’t worry, we would never let them get that far.”

They used Warming Charms on their cold food then finished their breakfast in silence. Yolotli removed the correct amount for their food, handing the galleons to Nelli. As the elf bounded across the room with the coins in hand, Yolotli turned to Remus one more time. “I think we could be friends, Remus Lupin, although it might be awkward if Sirius Black turns out to be a Death Eater.”

Remus grimaced. “For you and me both.”

They shook hands, standing as Nellie returned and Tom came to clear the table. “You’ll have no trouble getting to Hogwarts, will you? We can ask Nelli if she would be willing to fetch you.”

“Nelli would be happy to fetch Remus,” Nelli piped up. 

Remus waved away the offer. “No, I can find my way there.”  
“Well, I’ll see you then. Once Dumbledore gets back to me I’ll owl you a time.”

Yolotli cancelled the spellwork that formed their small bubble of privacy. She and Nelli clasped hands and departed, leaving Remus with a rare full stomach wondering what, exactly, he had gotten himself into when he had asked for her help with Sirius’ case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yolotli's angle is to do a lot of work on the down-low before her investigation is public, just in case. She doesn't want it to influence things like a bill for Lycanthrope rights. When she (metaphorically speaking) fist fights people like Umbridge over the condition of so called "half-breeds", she won't have anything they can use against her. Respect and awe only get you so far if people think you're an idiot who doesn't know which way to hold her wand.


End file.
